Jill  II 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


THE  COLLECTION  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINIANA 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

George  M.  Stephens 


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This  book  must  not 
be  taken  from  the 
Library  building. 


MRS.  ETHEL  THOMAS 
(Becky  Ann  Jones) 


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ONLY  A   FACTORY  BOY 

AND  = 


}  From  Ball  Room 

!  to  Weave  Room 

BY  = 

MRjS.    ETHEL    THOMAS 

The  author  has  had  seventeen  years 
experience  as  a  mill  woman 

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?  DEDICATED  f 

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Respectfully,  Hopefully,  and  Prayerfully  to  the 

Superintendents  of  our  Southern  Cotton 

Mills,   who   are    interested    in   the 

Physical,    Mental   and  Moral 


{  Welfare   of  Our                                       I 

1  Mill  Boys                                                f 

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Mill  News  Publishing  Company 

Charlotte,  N.  C. 


WASHBURN  PRESS 


Copyright  1914 

h 

Mrs.  Ethel  Thomas 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 


CHAPTER  I. 


"Dilsie,  I  knows  des  how  you  feels.  I  doan  lak  de  new 
mistis,  nuder.    She  got  de  debil  in  her  bigger'n  a  mule." 

Uncle  Mose,  little,  old.  wrinkled  and  gray,  rose  from  his 
seat  in  the  cabin  door,  cast  one  long  lingering  look  toward  the 
"big  house"  a  short  distance  away  and  heaved  a  troubled  sigh. 
Aunt  Dilsie  was  dishing  out  supper  and  deposited  the  viands  on 
the  table  with  a  vim  that  emphasized  her  wrath.  Her  round 
fat  face,  which  usually  shone  with  good  nature  and  satisfaction, 
was  now  stamped  with  hearty  disapproval.  Her  turbaned  head 
was  held  high,  but  there  was  a  suspicious  moisture  in  her  soft 
black  eyes  which  she  tried  slyly  to  wipe  away  with  the  corner 
of  her  snowy  aporn.  Uncle  Mose  watched  her  furtively  as  he 
sat  down  to  the  table.    Presently  her  wrath  exploded : 

"Hit's  enough  to  make  de  dead  turn  ober  in  dey  graves! 
Here  we's  bin  cookin'  an'  a  milkin'  an'  a  pidlin  aroun'  at  de 
big  house  nigh  on  to  fifty  year,  an'  dis  am  de  fus'  time  we's 
been  tol'  we  mus'n  eat  in  de  white  folks  kitchen.  We  stayed  wid 
old  Marse  an'  old  Mis'  LeGrande  Ion'  as  dey  live.  We  nussed 
Marse  Henry,  an'  stayed  right  on  wid  him  'twel  he  married,  an' 
right  on  'twel  de  purty  Misits  died,  an'  right  on  'twel  now  he's 
got  a  nuder  won.  All  dese  years  me  an'  you'se  been  eatin'  our 
supper  in  de  kitchen  an'  wuz  welcome.  Now,  here  dis  new 
'oman — she  low  she  ain't  gwine  to  put  up  wid  no  sich,  an'  she 
raked  de  scraps  frum  'round  de  plates,  an'  chunked  'em  all  to- 
geder  in  a  tin  bucket  an'  said  I  cud  bring  'em  on  home  an  eat 
'em.  Yah!  Des  same  es  we  wuz  hawgs.  Den  she  got  down, 
she  did,  an'  rite  dar  she  sot  'twel  I  got  de  dishes  washed;  den 
she  'low  I  cud  go,  now,  an'  she  wood  lock  up.  Des  erbout  tole 
me  she  wuz  skeered  I'd  steal  sumpin.  If  it  wern't  for  lil  Marse 
Jack,  po'  lil  mortherless  lam' — we'd  leave  dis  place." 

"j--  "Dilsie,"  said  Uncle  Mose,  as  he  gulped  down  his  victuals, 

^»  "duz  you  'member  how  de  yong  mistus  charged  us  'fore  she  died 

fcv  to  look  ater  her  chile?" 
^x 

Oo 


6  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Deed  I  duz.  Hits  on  my  min'  night  an'  day.  An'  we's 
gwine  ter  stick  to  our  lil  Marse  Jack,  too,  dat's  what  we  is.  I 
'specks  dat's  gwine  ter  mean  more'n  we  know  about  ,too,  Mose — 
stickin'  to  dat  chile." 

"Yah !  I  dun  see  a  vision  of  de  trubble  dat's  a  comin'.  Dat 
blasted  stuck-up  son  of  de  new  Mistis  gwine  ter  be  peckin'  on  our 
lil  lam'  all  de  time.  Marse  Henry,  shore  to  de  Lawd,  wuz  plum 
crazy  when  he  married  dat  brack-eyed  widder  nohow,"  said 
Uncle  Mose. 

"Dat  'oman  ain't  no  common  critter.  She  des  put  a  spell 
on  Marse  Henry,"  declared  Aunt  Dilsie.  "I  bin  a  watchin'  her 
tricks.  She  rolls  dem  brack  eyes  o'  hern  at  him  an  smiles  kinder 
deblish,  an'  bress  de  Lawd !  she  des  twists  him  'round  her  finger 
lak  he  wuz  a  string.  She  don't  like  lil'  Jack,  but  Marse  Henry's 
so  carried  away  wid  her,  he  can't  see  it.  An  dat  preshus 
'Arthur'  of  her'n  is  already  a  peckin  on  our  chile,  an  dey  ain't 
been  here  but  free  weeks!" 

"An'  I  tell  yo'  right  now,  Dilsie,  if  he  don't  stop  dat  de 
ground's  gwine  ter  be  pawed  up  with  de  happenins." 

"Humph!"  sniffed  Aunt  Dilsie.  "Stop  yo'  no  sense  talk  an 
eat  yo'  suppah.    Yo'  ain't  gwine  ter  do  nuffin  and  yo'  knows  it." 

"Don't  speckerlate  on  dat,  ole  'oman.  I  ain't  gwine  ter  take 
no  foolishness  from  dat  deblish  'oman's  brat.  It  ain't  right  fo' 
a  big  strong  healthy  twelve-year-old  boy  to  be  peckin  on  our 
lil  delicate  Marse  Jack  what  ain't  but  ten.  If  he  gits  to  'posin 
on  dat  chile,  I  goes  straight  to  Marse  Henry  an'  axe  him  to  stop 
it." 

"Yeh!  dat's  what  yo'll  do  is  it?"  snorted  his  wife.  "Ain't  I 
done  tole  yo'  she  gwine  to  rule  dis  here  whole  plantation  an 
Marse  Henry  throwed  in?  You  go  to  him  wid  yo'  tales  about 
things  consernin  dat  'oman  an  he'll  send  us  a  hikin  offen  dis 
place." 

Mose  looked  incredulous,  and  he  stared  at  Dilsie  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Dilsie,  duz  yo'  reckin  dat  would  shorely  happen?  Duz  yo' 
'spose  dat  'oman  could  turn  Marse  Henry  again  us  as  has  nussed 
him  when  he  wuz  a  baby?" 

"I  doan  'reckin  nuffin.  I  knows  it.  He's  des  crazy  'bout  her 
and  she'll  do  des  es  she  pleas  'bout  anything." 

Uncle  Mose  sipped  his  coffee  in  silence  while  his  old  features 
took  on  a  more  serious  expression.    A  sudden  foreboding  made 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  7 

him  shudder.    He  leaned  across  the  corner  of  the  table  and  laid 
a  trembling  hand  on  his  wife's  arm  and  half  whispered : 

"Ole  'oman,  do  you  'spose  she'll  git  all  dis  here  property 
dat  rightly  'longs  to  lil  Jack,  and  he  git  nuffin?" 

"I  done  tole  you  dat  she'll  do  des  as  she  pleases  'bout  any- 
thing," retorted  Aunt  Dilsie,  as  she  left  the  table  and  walked  to 
the  front  door  of  the  cabin  and  looked  out  toward  the  "big 
house." 

It  was  June.  Around  her  clean,  well-kept  yard,  was  a 
border  of  old-fashioned  flowers  in  riotous  profusion  and  gor- 
geous coloring — marigolds  and  zinias  of  every  variety,  mixed 
with  bachelor-buttons  and  what  she  called  "purty-be-nights" — 
and  in  each  "square"  a  bed  of  scarlet  verbenas. 

The  "big  house,"  a  handsome  colonial  building,  half  hid- 
den by  magnolia  and  crepe  myrtle  trees,  was  about  two  hundred 
yards  distant  and  from  there  the  sweet  odor  of  June  roses  and 
fragrant  honeysuckle  filled  the  air. 

"He's  comin' — bless  his  lil  hart,"  said  Aunt  Dilsie.  "He 
lonesomer  den  ever  now — po'  chile,"  and  she  turned  back  into 
the  cabin,  and  commenced  to  hurriedly  clear  the  table. 

Presently  a  slender,  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  boy  and  large 
dog  came  to  the  door. 

"Come  right  in,  honey,"  said  Uncle  Mose,  drawing  up  one 
of  the  two  pretty  willow  rockers  that  had  been  a  Christmas 
present  from  Jack's  mother  several  years  back,  and  were  the 
pride  of  this  old  couple. 

"Duz  yo'  want  suppah,  honey?"  asked  Aunt  Dilsie. 
The  boy  turned  troubled  eyes  toward  her,  and  said: 

"No,  thank  you,  Auntie.  But  have  you  had  any?  Oh!  if 
Mamma  could  be  here  and  see  how  things  is  a  going.  Auntie, 
it's  a  shame  the  way  you  was  insulted.  I  told  Papa  about  it — 
and — and — "  but  here  the  child  choked  and  stopped. 

"Doan  you  be  pestered  honey — dat  wuz  alright.  Me  an' 
Mose  is  a  gwine  ter  enjoy  settin  down  to  our  own  table,"  and 
she  gave  Mose  a  warning  glance. 

"Yeh!  Dat's  what,'  'added  Mose.  "We  shore  did  enjoy  our 
suppah.  Seem  des  lak  we  wuz  newly  married  an  des  gone  to 
housekeeping — ha!  ha!"  Jack's  face  brightened: 

"I'm  so  glad  you  didn't  mind,"  he  said,  evidently  much 
relieved.  "Papa  says  he  can't  meddle  with  Mis'  Florence's 
affairs  and  said  you  would  understand." 


8  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Yes,  in  course  we  duz,  chile,  an'  doan  you  be  worrit," 
answered  Aunt  Dilsie.  "Everybody's  got  dey  own  noshuns  an' 
dey  own  way  of  doing-.  Me  an'  Mose  hain't  neber  been  bossed 
'round  lak  slave  niggers — not  even  in  slavery  times.  But  if 
it  comes  to  dat  now,  we  hain't  got  no  kick — we  ain't  got  long 
to  live  no  how,  an'  we  can  be  happy  on  de  has  beens,"  she 
chuckled. 

Jack  looked  at  his  old  nurse  half  doubtfully,  but  both  she 
and  Uncle  Mose  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh,  and  he  did  not  reply. 
The  big  dog  squatted  by  the  boy,  laid  his  head  on  his  master's 
knee  and  looked  lovingly  into  his  face. 

"Joe  has  learned  another  trick  to-day,"  smiled  Jack,  strok- 
ing the  dogs  head.  Joe  acknowledged  the  compliment  by  wag- 
ging his  tail. 

"De  land  sakes!  Ain't  dat  dawg  got  sense?  What  he 
done  gone  an'  larnt  now,  honey?"  asked  Uncle  Mose,  glad  to 
turn  the  lad's  thoughts  into  more  pleasant  channels. 

"Dat  de  finest  dawg  in  de  country.  He  orter  be  in  de 
cirkis,"  declared  Aunt  Dilsie,  determined  that  Mose  should  not 
offer  all  the  compliments.  "What  yo'  larnt  him  now,  chile?" 
Jack  bent  and  looked  lovingly  into  the  dogs  eyes  and  said: 

"Joe,  what  would  you  do  if  me  and  you  had  to  part?"  For 
answer,  the  dog  fell  to  the  floor,  groaned  and  stretched  out  stiff, 
his  eyes  closed,  and  he  was  to  all  appearances  dead. 

"De  Lawd  hab  mussy!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Dilsie,  while  Uncle 
Mose  gazed  with  twitching  lips  and  blinking  eyes  at  the  silent 
form. 

"I  think  I'd  die,  too,  without  Joe,"  said  Jack  softly,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes.    Then  to  the  dog,  as  he  knelt  beside  him. 

"Joe  as  long  as  me  and  you  both  live  we  will  stick  together." 
Instantly  the  beautiful  dog  sprang  up  and  barked  joyously,  as 
he  capered  about  the  room. 

"Jack,"  called  a  voice  from  the  yard. 

"That's  Arthur  hunting  me,"  his  whispered.  Then  he  called 
out: 

"Come  in  Arthur,  and  Uncle  Mose  will  tell  us  some  war 
tales.    He  knows  a  lot  of  good  ones." 

"Thanks,"  came  the  curt  answer.  "I  don't  visit  niggers. 
Mother  thought  you  were  out  here  and  asked  me  to  call  you 
in.    It's  bed  time  for  little  boys,  so  come  on." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  9 

"I'm  a  good  mind  to  sic  Joe  on  the  mean,  ill-mannered 
thing,"  he  muttered.    "Joe  would  do  him  up  a  job  if  I  said  so." 

"We  doan  mine  bein'  called  'niggers'  honey — dat's  alright — 
dat's  what  we  is,"  grinned  Mose  bravely,  while  Aunt  Dilsie 
added:  "I  spec  it  am  getting'  late,  chile,  an'  Mis'  Florence  is 
skeered  de  night  air  ain't  good  fo'  you.  An'  den,  'Arly  to  bed 
an'  'arly  to  rise  make  de  boys  healthy,  wealthy  an'  wise,  you 
know.  So  jes  be  a  good  boy  an'  mine  yo'  pa  and  Mis'  Florence 
an'  eberting  come  out  alright  honey  lam'.  So  g'long  home  to 
yo'  rest  mah  chile,  an'  trus'  in  de  Lawd,"  and  her  old  toil  worn 
hand  rested  lovingly  on  the  boys  golden  curls  as  he  passed  out 
into  the  night. 

"Look  here,  boy.  I  heard  what  you  said,"  commenced 
Arthur,  "and  if  that  dog  ever  looks  like  he  wants  to  bite  me, 
he  had  better  be  prepared  for  dog  heaven."  Jack  made  no 
answer.     Fear  for  his  dog's  safety  chilled  his  heart. 

Back  in  the  cabin,  the  old  darkies  gazed  at  each  other  in 
dumb  agony. 

"We  dun  right,  anyhow,  Dilsie,"  whispered  Mose.  "We 
hain't  got  to  let  nuffin  dat's  done  to  us  worry  dat  chile." 

"Dat's  de  truf,  Mose.  An'  we  mus'n  let  him  know  what 
we  think  ob  de  new  Mistus.  We's  gotter  'pear  lak  we  sides 
wid  her  eber  time  we  kin.  We  gotter  act  de  deceiber's  part 
an'  be  hypocricks  here  in  our  ole  age.  We  gotter  be  wise  es 
sarpints  an'  harmless  es  doves,  if  we  specks  to  stay  here  an' 
look  atter  lil  Marse  Jack,"  said  Dilsie  with  conviction. 

When  the  boys  reached  the  house,  Arthur  joined  his 
mother  and  step-father  in  the  sitting  room,  but  Jack  with  Joe 
at  his  heels  went  upstairs  without  even  a  "goodnight"  to  anyone. 
The  child  was  humiliated,  crushed  and  filled  with  bitter  resent- 
ment. His  little  heart  throbbed  violently  and  his  cheeks  burned 
with  indignation.  He  felt  all  alone  in  the  world.  His  father 
didn't  share  his  big  rocker  now  with  him,  or  have  him  to  talk 
with  him  occasionally.  "Miss  Florence"  was  always  at  his  side 
petting  and  loving  him  into  forgetfulness  of  his  first  love  and 
keeping  him  so  entranced  with  her  bewitching  ways  that  he 
cared  for  nothing  else  in  the  world. 

"Did  dear  little  Jack  come  in?"  asked  Mrs.  LeGrande  of 
Arthur,  as  he  entered  the  big  cool  room  and  found  her  sitting 
on  the  broad  arm  of  her  husband's  chair. 

"Yes.     He's  gone  upstairs,"  replied  Arthur. 


10  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Without  saying  good-night  to  his  papa?  Oh,  my  dear," 
turning  to  Mr.  LeGrande,  "I  am  so  troubled.  Jack  doesn't 
like  me,  I  fear,  and  Arthur,  who  has  never  had  trouble  winning 
the  effections  of  his  associates,  has  so  far  found  it  impossible 
to  win  Jack." 

Mr.  LeGrande  rose  from  his  seat,  hurried  into  the  hall 
and  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs  called  to  Jack,  who  was  at  the 
head  of  the  landing. 

"Son,  come  here."  There  was  a  touch  of  tenderness  mixed 
with  disappointment  in  his  voice.  Jack's  heart  rose  in  his 
throat,  and  he  felt  the  coming  of  choking  tears.  He  longed 
to  rush  into  his  father's  arms,  but  wounded  pride  and  bitter 
indignation  held  him  back.  He  gripped  the  railing  with  tremb- 
ling hands  and  called  softly,  and  f alteringly : 

"Papa,  please,  I  don't  want  to  see  any  one  tonight — I — I — " 
Mr.  LeGrande  with  anxious  strides,  mounted  the  stairs  and 
stood  by  his  child.  The  dim  light  in  the  hall  revealed  that  Jack 
was  white  faced  and  that  his  blue  eyes  were  red  with  unshed 
tears. 

"Jack,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?"  in  a  speculative  tone. 
"You  are  acting  quite  unreasonable,  aren't  you?  Why  do  you 
shun  your  mother?"  Jack  winced.  Never  would  he  call  her 
"mother,"  he  vowed  inwardly.  "She  is  ready  and  anxious  to 
do  a  mother's  part  by  you  and  she  is  grieved  because  you  seem 
to  dislike  her.    My  son,  why  do  you  hurt  me  like  this?" 

"Papa,  she  ain't  one  bit  like  my  pretty  blue-eyed  mamma — 
how  can  I  like  her? — And — and  she  and  Arthur  treat  Uncle 
Mose  and  Aunt  Dilsie  same  as  if  they  were  dogs — and  they 
are  my  best  friends — now.  You  don't  love  me  like  you  did  before 
she  come  between  us — I  ain't  got  nobody  now,  but  Uncle  Mose 
and  Aunt  Dilsie  and  Joe,"  wailed  the  child,  his  head  bowed  on 
the  railing,  and  his  body  quivering.  When  his  name  was  men- 
tioned Joe  barked  in  sympathy,  and  shoved  his  head  under 
Jack's  arms,  and  kissed  him  on  the  cheek. 

Dear  me,"  came  the  voice  of  "Miss  Florence"  from  the 
hall.  "Didn't  I  hear  the  dog  upstairs?  The  house  will  be  full 
of  fleas." 

"I'll  bring  him  down  presently,  dear,"  called  her  husband. 
Jack  threw  his  arm  around  Joe's  neck. 

"Papa,  let  him  stay  with  me.     He  can  lie  on  the  rug — he's 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  11 

clean  and  nice — you  know  he  is — and  he  ain't  got  a  flea  on  him. 
Please,  papa, — I'm  lonesome." 

"Jack,  don't  be  so  foolish."  Mr.  LeGrande  was  hurt,  and 
resented  the  accusation  of  his  son.  Of  course  he  loved  him 
the  same  as  ever.  But  Jack  was  getting-  to  be  quite  a  puzzle. 
He  didn't  understand  the  heart-hunger  and  longing  for  love  and 
sympathy,  that  made  the  child  appear  sullen,  morose  and  ill- 
tempered. 

"Kiss  me  good-night  son,  and  try  to  understand.  You 
know  I  love  you  just  as  I  always  did — but  your  conduct  of  late 
is  dreadful  and  terribly  disappointing.  Have  some  consideration 
for  my  feelings  and  wishes.  It  is  foolish  and  ungrateful  of  you, 
to  resent  the  advances  of  your  mother  and  Arthur.  We  can 
all  be  so  happy  together  if  you  will  only  be  rea'sonable  and  act 
sensibly.  I  was  pleased  with  the  thought  that  you  would  find 
pleasure  in  the  companionship  of  a  bright,  healthy  boy." 

"Papa,  I  don't  think  you  understand,"  said  Jack,  kissing 
him  good-night,  and  bravely  steadying  his  faltering  voice. 

"I  understand  every  one,  I  think,  but  you,  Jack,"  his  father 
answered.  "Of  late,  you  are  incorrigible  and  incomprehensible, 
and  you  are  making  our  home  life  miserable  for  all  concerned," 
sadly.  And  Mr.  LeGrande  went  down,  taking  Joe  with  him, 
leaving  poor  Jack  more  bitter  and  rebellious  than  ever. 

Presently  he  heard  Arthur  coming  up  stairs  whistling 
merrily  and  heard  him  enter  his  room  across  the  hall.  Jack 
wondered  how  he  could  be  so  gay,  and  felt  that  he,  himself,  who 
never  sang  or  whistled,  must  in  reality  show  up  to  terrible  dis- 
advantage in  contrast.  Long  and  late  he  pondered  and  resolved 
to  do  his  best  to  keep  his  father's  affection.  He  would  do  any- 
thing, except  to  call  "Jier"  "mother." 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  LeGrande  plantation  was  in  Montgomery  county,  North 
Carolina,  and  many  of  its  fertile  acres  lay  along  the  banks  of 
the  Pee  Dee  river.  The  country  was  not  thickly  settled,  but 
for  miles  around  was  owned  by  just  a  few  wealthy  planters. 
The  "neighbors"  had  all  called  to  welcome  the  new  mistress 
of  LeGrande  Heights,  but  none  of  their  visits  were  returned 
and  social  intercourse  ceased. 


12  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

The  only  school  in  the  neighborhod  was  a  four  months' 
public  school,  taught  after  crops  were  gathered,  and  during 
the  coldest  season  of  the  year.  Jack,  who  had  always  been 
delicate,  had  never  attended.  His  invalid  mother  had  taught 
him  the  little  he  knew.  Deprived  of  her  loving  care  at  the  tender 
age  of  eight,  he  was  then  allowed  to  do  pretty  much  as  he 
pleased,  his  father  being  kept  busy  superintending  his  big  farm 
and  looking  after  his  cattle.  Aunt  Dilsie  kept  the  big  house 
tidy,  did  the  cooking  and  "minded  lil'  Jack." 

In  those  days  the  sturdy  farmers  of  Montgomery  county 
thought  very  little  of  "book  learning."  That  education  was 
absolutely  essential  to  success  never  entered  their  minds.  To 
know  how  to  raise  corn,  cotton  and  cattle  was  the  one  and 
only  important  consideration  with  them. 

Henry  LeGrande  was  a  fairly  well  educated  man  for  those 
days,  but  well  liked  by  his  more  illiterate  neighbors.  When  he 
had  returned  from  a  business  trip  to  Danville,  Virginia,  bring- 
ing with  him  a  wife  so  highly  educated,  so  brilliant  and  "proper" 
that  they  were  really  miserable  in  her  presence,  they  wondered, 
shook  their  heads  gravely  and  then  stayed  at  home. 

Two  years  had  passed,  Uncle  Mose  and  Aunt  Dilsie  were 
still  the  kitchen  servants,  quiet  and  unobtrusive,  humble  and 
faithful,  but  ever  under  the  watchful  eye  of  Mis'  Florence, 
who  seemed  suspicious  of  everyone.  Mr.  LeGrande,  busy  early 
and  late  superintending  his  big  farm,  saw  very  little  of  Jack. 
The  child,  frozen  by  the  polite  coldness  of  his  step-mother  and 
teased  and  ridiculed  by  Arthur,  rarely  sat  at  the  table  with  the 
others.  Aunt  Dilsie  managed  to  fix  nice  little  bag  lunches  for 
his  dinner  so  that  he  might  play  on  the  river  with  Joe  or  fish 
all  day  long,  if  he  wished,  without  becoming  hungry.  Mis' 
Florence  knew  of  this  but  raised  no  objections.  It  suited  her 
exactly,  for  the  child  to  stay  out  of  sight  and  away  from  his 
father,  while  Arthur  made  himself  useful  to  "papa"  and  often 
sat  besides  him  in  the  buggy  as  he  drove  through  the  plantation. 

Mis'  Florence  always  looked  grave  and  troubled  when  JacK 
was  mentioned  or  when  he  was  near,  if  in  the  presence  of  her 
husband.  When  his  father  was  not  in  sight  or  hearing,  Jack 
had  felt  the  lash  of  her  sharp  sarcastic  tongue,  and  had  qualied 
before  the  fierce  gleam  in  her  coal  black  eyes. 

But  he  never  carried  tales  to  his  father  or  nurse.  He 
would  die  rather  than  be  what  Aunt  Dilsie  called  a  "tattle  tale." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  13 

Arthur  knew  this,  and  at  every  chance  teased  him  unmerci- 
fully, delighting  to  see  Jack  in  a  "tantrum."  He  had  a  high 
temper  and  could  give  what  Arthur  called  "interesting  exhibi- 
tions." Arthur  never  lost  his  self-control.  He  was  always  calm, 
cool  and  deliberate,  and  could  say  the  most  aggravating  things 
in  a  smooth,  well  modulated  tone  of  voice,  that  greatly  irritated 
the  high-strung  nerves  of  passionate,  sensitive  Jack. 

Joe  was  Jack's  inseparable  companion,  and  often  quivered 
and  snarled  in  disapproval  of  the  treatment  bestowed  on  his 
master.  But,  through  love  of  his  dog  and  because  he  feared  for 
the  dog's  life,  Jack  had  never  let  Joe  "have  a  hand"  in  any  of 
his  quarrels  with  Arthur. 

One  evening,  "Mis'  Florence"  had  a  serious  talk  with  her 
husband.  It  was  just  two  years  after  her  arrival  at  the  farm. 
They  were  seated  on  the  broad  front  porch  and  the  odor  of 
June  roses  and  honeysuckles  made  the  night  air  fragrant. 

"Dearest,"  she  said,  "I  have  been  here  two  years  now,  and 
have  been  happier  than  ever  in  my  life." 

"Happier  than  with  your  first  love?"  asked  her  husband, 
tenderly  stroking  her  plump  white  hand. 

"Oh,  Henry!  I  never  knew  what  love  was  until  I  met  you. 
I  think  I  never  really  lived  before.  How  good  you  are.  How 
noble  and  generous.  Tell  me,  have  I  been  a  good  wife — and — 
and  mother?" 

"My  own,"  he  anwsered.  "You  have  made  me  very  happy. 
The  only  trouble  I  see  is  about  Jack.  He  seems  to  care  abso- 
lutely nothing  for  any  one,  except  his  black  mammy,  Mose  and 
Joe.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  him."  She  answered  with 
a  sigh: 

"He  and  Arthur  don't  get  along  together  at  all.  He  dis- 
likes me  as  much  as  ever,  though  I've  tried  so  hard  to  win 
his  love."  Here  her  voice  trembled  and  for  a  moment  she  laid 
her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  know  you  have  tried.  He's  a  strange  child. 
Who  could  help  loving  you?"  and  he  tenderly  kissed  his  wife's 
cheek. 

"Henry,  perhaps  if  we  separate  the  boys  it  will  be  better 
for  both."  Mr.  LeGrande  caught  his  breath  at  the  thought  of 
sending  Jack  away.  Where  could  he  send  him?  There  was  no 
relative  interested  enough  to  undertake  the  care  and  responsi- 
bility of  the  child. 


14  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Henry,  dear,"  she  chided,  "why  do  you  shudder?  You 
surely  don't  think  I  mean  to  send  your  child  from  home? — that 
delicate,  sensitive  child?  No,  we  will  send  Arthur  away.  We 
can  place  him  in  school  somewhere,  and — and — " 

"Flora!  Would  you  send  your  child  away?"  gasped  the  man 
in  astonishment. 

"He  is  strong  and  brave,  and  would  go  willingly,"  she  con- 
tinued— "gladly,  I'm  sure,  should  I  explain  to  him  why.  Then, 
too,  Arthur  ought  to  be  in  school.  He  was  so  far  advanced  that 
I  thought  two  years  of  rest  in  the  country  would  do  him  more 
good  than  to  continue  in  school.  I  don't  think  Jack  could  bear 
the  confinement  of  the  school  room.  His  health  would  not 
permit  it.  I  think  he  is  getting  stronger,  though,  than  he  was, 
and  if  he  would  only  eat  his  meals  regularly,  am  sure  that  he 
would  gain  in  health  and  strength  more  rapidly.  Really,  dear, 
I  want  to  send  Arthur  away,  and  try  the  experiment.    Shall  we?" 

"I  shall  miss  him  terribly,"  he  replied.  "He  is  very  dear 
to  me.    How  I  wish  Jack  was  like  him." 

The  woman's  dark  eyes  shone  with  satisfaction.  A  gentle 
rustle  in  the  honeysuckle  vines  at  the  end  of  the  porch,  made 
her  start  a  little.    She  knew  that  Arthur  was  listening. 

"I'm  so  glad  Arthur  is  a  comfort  and  pleasure  to  you," 
she  replied  softly.  "He  never  loved  his  own  father  as  he 
loves  you." 

"Humph!  I  guess  not,"  mentally  ejaculated  the  eaves- 
dropper. "Daddy  Mason  didn't  have  a  bank  account  or  anything 
else  that  was  any  account — wasn't  any  account  himself.  But 
ain't  mother  a  peach.  Gee!  If  she  hadn't  roped  old  soft  head 
we'd  both  be  in  Dan  River  Cotton  Mills  right  now." 

It  was  decided  that  Arthur  should  enter  school  at  Greens- 
boro in  September  and  from  then  on  he  did  everything  possible 
to  show  his  love  for  "papa"  and  to  make  himself  almost  indis- 
pensable to  the  man's  comfort.  At  every  safe  opportunity  he 
teased  Jack  and  played  all  kinds  of  cruel  jokes  on  him. 

Late  one  afternoon  about  the  middle  of  July,  Arthur  and 
Bud  Ingram,  a  neighbor  boy  who  had  come  to  spend  the  night 
with  him  and  "eat  watermelon"  went  into  the  barn.  Uncle 
Mose,  who  was  in  the  loft  looking  for  eggs,  heard  them  talking. 
Hearing  Jack's  name  mentioned  he  placed  his  hands  to  his  ears 
and  listened. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  15 

'That  blasted  dog  might  get  us,"  objected  Bud.  "He'd  do 
anything  for  Jack.    He's  mighty  nigh  human,  that  dog  is." 

"  Darn  the  dog!     Oh,  I'll  borrow  him  from  Jack  to  hunt 
,muskrats  tonight.     Then   I'll  shut  him  up  and  we'll  be  safe. 
I'd  kill  the  brute  but  I'm  afraid  to,"  said  Arthur. 

"Now,  what  am  dat  young  debil  a  plottin  again  mah  chile?" 
wondered  Uncle  Mose.  "Guess  I'll  put  a  spoke  in  dat  wheel 
when  it  gins  to  roll,"  he  thought,  and  again  strained  his  old 
ears  to  understand  the  conversation. 

"What  makes  him  set  his  hooks  over  on  the  island?  Is  it  a 
better  place  than  on  the  main  bank  of  the  river?"  asked  Bud. 

"Guess  so — he  certainly  does  catch  the  fish.  We  have  'em 
all  the  time  and  I  know  he  supplies  his  old  nigger  mammy's 
table,  too.  Now,  we  must  get  over  there  before  he  does.  He 
goes  about  9  o'clock  when  the  moon  rises.  We'll  hide  our  boat 
so  he  can't  find  it,  and  while  he's  busy  with  his  hooks,  we'll 
take  his  boat  and  leave  him  on  the  island,  and  he'll  have  to 
stay  there  all  night." 

"He's  mighty  little  for  us  to  play  a  joke  on  like  that,  and 
I'd  hate  awful  to  be  caught  at  it,"  replied  Bud.  Arthur  ignored 
the  first  objection  and  exclaimed: 

"We  won't  get  caught.  And  if  he  cuts  up  too  bad  after 
being  left,  why  we'll  be  muskrat  hunting  and  hear  him  after 
awhile  and  will  rescue  him.  It's  no  bad  idea  to  do  a  good  turn 
for  a  fellow  and  place  him  under  obligations." 

"You're  a  sharp  one,"  laughed  Bud.  "But  where  is  the 
colt  you  wanted  to  show  me?" 

"It  must  be  in  the  pasture  with  it's  mother,"  said  Arthur. 
'It's  not  in  the  stall,  I  see,"  and  the  boys  went  out. 

When  he  thought  it  safe,  old  Mose  came  down  from  the 
loft,  his  little  eyes  snapping  wrathfully. 

"So  dat's  what  dey  'low  to  do  to  mah  lil'  Jack.  Yah !  I'll 
fix  dem  brats,"  and  he  hurried  home  to  consult  with  Aunt 
Dilsie. 

Presently,  Jack  and  Joe  came  along  and  stopped  in  the 
yard.  Jack  sat  down  on  a  bench  and  listened  to  Uncle  Mose 
as  he  told  what  he  had  heard  in  the  barn. 

"They  shan't  have  Joe!  I'll  take  him  with  me  and  what's 
more  I'll  sic  him  on  'em,"  Jack  declared. 

"Now,  honey,  you  listen  to  me  an'  we'll  des  turn  de  tables 
on  dem  pow'ful  funny  brats.    You  des  let  'em  have  Joe  to  hunt 


16  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

mus'rats — dat's  all  rite!  An'  you  go  long  to  yo'  fishin'  des  as 
yo'  allers  does.    We's  gwine  ter  fix  'em." 

Then  Mose  and  Dilsie  unfolded  a  plan  that  made  Jack 
almost  scream  with  laughter,  and  his  blue  eyes  danced  while  he 
thought  of  the  fun  that  was  promised. 

"Sh !  Dem  brats  is  a  comin'  crost  de  cotton  patch  dis  away 
now,"  warned  Aunt  Dilsie.  "Dey  bin  stealin'  our  watermelions 
lak  as  not." 

"Want  a  melon,  nigger?"  laughed  Arthur  as  he  and  Bud 
came  around  the  cabin,  and  he  rolled  a  small  one  on  the  ground 
toward  Uncle  Mose. 

"Yes,  sah !  an'  thankee,"  answered  the  old  darkey.  "I  hain't 
felt  lak  going  to  mah  patch  today." 

"I  smell  something  good  cooking,"  remarked  Bud,  sniffing 
the  air. 

"Yes,  sah,  hit's  fish  what  lil  Jack  gin  us,"  replied  Aunt 
Dilsie  with  a  low  courtesy.  He  shore  do  ketch  dem  things.  But 
I  wish  he  wouldn't  set  his  hooks  away  off  dar  on  de  island  whar 
dat  'oman  got  kilt  durin'  de  war.  I  speck  he  gwine  ter  see  her 
sperit  walkin'  on  de  water  sum  o'  dese  nights  an'  be  skeered 
purty  night  to  death."    Jack  laughed: 

"If  I  see  her,  Aunt  Dilsie,  I'll  ask  her  to  take  a  ride  in 
my  boat." 

Arthur  looked  at  the  boy  in  amazement.  He  had  never 
seen  him  so  animated.  He  supposed  old  Mose  had  been  telling 
Jack  some  funny  and  interesting  yarns — and  indeed  he  had. 

The  two  boys  presently  started  toward  the  big  house,  and 
as  if  it  was  an  after  thought,  Arthur  turned  back  and  spoke 
pleasantly  to  Jack : 

"Say!  Bud  and  I  want  to  hunt  muskrats  tonight.  Will 
you  lend  us  your  dog?    We'll  take  good  care  of  him." 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,  you  may  have  him,"  replied  Jack. 

"I'd  ask  you  to  go  along,  too,  kid,  but  we're  going  too  far 
and  through  too  rough  places  for  you,"  said  Arthur.  "Have 
Joe  up  at  the  house  by  dusk.  We  want  to  go  soon  as  we  can 
get  supper,"  and  Arthur  hurried  on  atfer  Bud. 

Joe  looked  at  Jack  as  if  comprehending  every  word  and 
wagged  his  tail. 

"Yes,  Joe,  it  will  be  alright,"  smiled  the  boy,  patting  the 
dog's  head.  "But  I'm  sorry  you'll  not  be  there  to  see  the  fun." 
Then  he  turned  to  Dilsie : 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  17 

"Get  early  supper  for  'em,  Auntie,  so  they  won't  have  to 
wait,"  he  laughed. 

"Dat's  what,  honey.  I'se  gwine  right  now  soon  es  I  take 
up  dem  fish  fur  Mose's  suppah." 

"Yah!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  Mose,  "an  you  g'long,  too,  honey, 
an'  be  jolly  an  soshable  to  dem  boys  whilst  I  fix  fur  bizness. 
An'  doan  yo  git  skeered  at  nuffin  yo'  see  on  dat  island  dis  night. 
But,  I  tells  you  right  now,  lil  Marse,  dars  gwine  ter  be  sumpin 
doin!  Somebody  gwine  ter  rip  fru  dem  bramble  boo  briars 
mighty  reckless  an'  gwine  ter  call  on  de  rocks  an  de  mountings 
to  come  over  an  squash  'em!  Yah!  Dar's  gwine  ter  be  weepin' 
and  wailin'  an'  smashin'  ob  teef !"  Dilsie  and  Mose  both  laughed 
long  and  heartily,  pleased  to  see  that  they  were  joined  by  Jack. 

Never,  during  the  two  past  years  had  the  boy  been  so  happy. 
The  spirit  of  retaliation  was  strong  within  him.  He  would 
get  pay  now,  all  at  once,  for  what  he  had  suffered  at  Arthur's 
hands.  If  it  turned  out  as  he  anticipated  he  felt  like  he  could 
forgive  the  past  and  start  over  again. 

Jack,  Joe  and  Dilsie  went  to  the  "big  house,"  and  while 
Dilsie  finished  her  work  there,  Uncle  Mose  found  some  pieces 
of  hemp  rope  about  two  feet  long,  untwisted  and  combed  them 
out,  then  made  a  stiff  flour  paste  as  he  chuckled  to  himself  and 
waited  for  Dilsie  to  return. 

She  soon  came,  and  with  many  grunts  of  satisfaction  the 
hemp  combings  were  securely  fastened  to  his  wooly  head  and 
a  long  glittering  string  of  glass  beads  was  wound  around  the 
wonderful  head  dress.  Then  the  paste  was  spread  over  his  black 
face,  and  by  the  light  of  the  candle,  Mose  was  a  sight  to  send 
the  creeps  over  any  one. 

Dilsie  then  rolled  a  pair  of  white  stockings  and  a  white 
night  gown  into  a  bundle,  which  Mose  tucked  under  his  arm 
and  then  stole  from  the  back  door  across  the  cotton  patch 
through  the  rank  bottom  corn  and  to  the  river.  Soon  he  was 
in  his  boat  which  he  kept  securely  hidden  in  the  tall  grass  and 
cat-tails  which  grew  on  the  river  bank,  and  with  rapid,  noise- 
less strokes  he  reached  the  island  and  with  all  the  cunning  of  an 
Indian,  again  hid  his  little  boat. 

Then  hiding  in  a  thicket  of  honeysuckles  and  grapevines,  he 
waited  and  watched.  Nor  had  he  long  to  wait.  Bud  and 
Arthur  soon  came  and  landed  several  yards  above  the  usual 
landing  and  carefully  hid  their  boat. 


18  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

Laughing  and  talking  in  a  low  tone  they  made  their  way 
through  the  tangled  underbrush,  passed  by  old  Mose  and  went 
across  the  little  island  to  where  Jack's  basket  and  hooks  were  set. 

"Dey's  gwine  ter  steal  de  chile's  fish!"  growled  old  Mose. 
"Well,  des  let  'em !"  and  he  slipped  out  of  his  hiding  place,  hur- 
ried to  where  the  boys  had  hidden  their  boat,  jumped  into  it, 
carried  it  fifty  yards  further  up  the  river,  ran  it  into  a  big 
bed  of  water  lillies  and  fastened  it  to  a  projecting  root. 

Hurrying  back  he  hid  in  the  thicket,  put  on  his  "robe"  and 
run  his  hands  into  the  white  stockings,  and  was  ready  for 
business. 

Presently  Jack  came,  and  as  he  went  across  the  island 
softly  whistling,  the  two  boys  each  carrying  a  nice  string  of 
fish,  stolen  from  Jack's  basket,  ran  into  the  low  bushes. 

"Let's  scare  him!"  whispered  Arthur,  and  at  once  let  forth 
a  long,  mournful  wail,  just  as  Jack  pulled  up  his  basket.  A 
few  yards  back  of  our  two  boys,  came  an  answering  wail, 
louder,  prolonged  and  blood  curdling. 

"Gee!  What  was  that?"  gasped  Bud,  catching  Arthur  by 
the  arm. 

"Darned  if  I  know!"  answered  the  boy,  his  teeth  chatter- 
ing and  his  heart  pounding  wildly.  Jack  threw  the  empty 
basket  back  into  the  river,  straightened,  turned  and  called 
out  in  a  clear,  steady  voice: 

"Is  that  you  Lady  Ghost?    Try  it  again!" 

"Gosh!  Hain't  he  got  nerve?"  whispered  Bud,  his  hair 
rising.  Again  came  that  awful  cry  as  of  a  lost  soul,  and  the  two 
boys,  still  clinging  to  their  fish,  dashed  pell  mell  through  the 
thick  undergrowth  toward  Jack's  boat  that  was  pulled  up  on 
the  pebbles  in  the  pale  moonshine. 

"Oh,  my  soul!  Run,  Bud,  run!  Let's  get  away  from  here 
quick!"  groaned  Arthur  catching  a  glimpse  of  something  white 
just  ahead  of  them. 

"Are  we  going  to  leave  Jack  here  with  that?"  gasped  Bud, 
his  face  pale  as  death  and  his  eyes  bulging. 

"Oh,  come  on,  or  I'll  leave  you  with  him,"  wailed  Arthur. 
That  settled  Bud's  conscience,  and  he  had  no  trouble  keeping  up 
with  his  friend. 

Just  as  the  boys  were  about  to  enter  the  boat  a  tall  white 
form  with  glittering  crown  and  long  flowing  yellow  hair  silently 
confronted  them,  and  slowly  raised  a  slim  white  hand  and  pointed 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  19 

up  the  river.     "Cowards!     Thieves!   Beware!"   came  a  sepul- 
charl  whisper. 

"Oh  Lord!     The  Ghost!"  screamed  Arthur. 

"It  shore  is!"  wailed  Bud  and  dropping  their  fish,  both 
boys  dashed  for  their  own  boat,  tearing  through  brambles  and 
hawthorn  bushes,  falling  to  their  knees  as  they  were  tripped 
by  the  vines,  while  right  behind  them  came  that  terrible  ghost, 
silently  but  threateningly. 

"Heaven  help  us !  our  boat  is  gone !"  wailed  Arthur.  "Yes, 
gone!"  half  crying. 

"Sh!  So  is  the  ghost!"  whispered  Bud  trembling.  "Arthur, 
let's  get  Jack  to  take  us  back!  We'll  have  to !  We'll  just  have  to 
tell  him  all  about  it  and  beg  for  mercy." 

"No!  No!  we  can't  do  that — let's  swim  back?"  said  Arthur, 
but  he  followed  Bud  back  towards  Jack's  boat,  his  knees  tottering 
under  him  and  threatening  to  give  way.  They  were  about  to 
call  to  Jack  as  he  came  toward  his  boat,  but  what  they  saw 
froze  the  blood  in  their  veins  and  struck  them  dumb. 

The  ghost  was  there  and  beckoned  to  Jack.  Jack  silently 
followed  it  to  where  the  boys  had  dropped  the  fish.  The  ghost 
pointed  to  the  fish  and  Jack  stooped  and  picked  them  up.  Then 
it  pointed  up  the  river  and  let  forth  a  warning  cry  that  almost 
made  Arthur  and  Bud  faint  with  terror,  and  their  hair  to 
stand  on  end. 

Jack  returned  to  his  boat  and  the  ghost  followed. 

"Will  you  ride  with  me,  Lady  Ghost?"  called  Jack  as  he 
entered  his  boat! 

And  to  the  joy  of  our  heroes,  who  were  left  behind,  the 
white  form  silently  entered  the  boat  and  sat  down.  Jack  pad- 
dled away,  and  when  about  half  way  across,  the  white  thing 
rose  to  its  feet  uttering  a  wail  of  despair  and  the  trembling 
boys  saw  it  leap  with  a  great  splash  into  the  water  and  sink  to 
rise  no  more. 

"Thar  now!"  Mose  whispered.  "It  wuzn't  in  de  progrom  fer 
me  to  sink  Dilsie's  night  gown,  but  Pse  gone  and  done  it! 
Glad  you  had  dem  rocks  in  de  boat!" 


CHAPTER   III. 

"Now,  what'll  we  do?"  wailed  Bud.  "You've  got  me  into 
a  purty  mess !  That  spirit'll  be  back  here  directly  too !"  Arthur 
stood  straining  his  eyes  after  Jack.  Terror  made  his  heart 
quake.  His  tongue  seemed  paralyzed.  His  knees  grew  weaker 
and  he  sank  limply  to  the  ground.    Finally,  he  whispered : 

"We  won't  dare  to  try  to  swim  it, — that  thing's  between 
here  and  the  bank !    Oh,  Bud !  we  are  in  a  terrible  fix." 

The  moon  rose  higher  and  higher  and  grew  brighter  and 
brighter.  The  two  boys  huddled  close  together  and  conversed 
in  low  whispers.  The  lonely  hoot  of  owls,  the  croaking  of 
frogs  and  the  occasional  quivering  notes  of  the  screech  owl 
made  them  almost  shriek  in  agony. 

"And  Jack  wasn't  one  bit  afraid!  I  can't  understand  that!" 
whispered  Arthur  in  awe. 

"Of  course  not!  He  ain't  got  no  call  to  be  skeered  of  his 
mother's  spirit,"  answered  Bud. 

"His  mother's?"  questioned  Arthur. 

"Yes,  that  shore  was  Mis'  Evelyn.  I've  seen  her  many  a 
time  with  her  long  yaller  hair  hanging  down  like  that.  She's 
watchin'  over  her  boy.    Say  did  you  notice  her  starry  crown?" 

"I  reckon  I  did!  Didn't  it  shine  though?  But,  Bud,  I 
thought  spirits  stayed  around  where  their  bodies  were  buried," 
puzzled  Arthur. 

"Not  allers.  Grandpa  Ingram  has  seen  his  mother's  spirit 
many  and  many  a  time.  It  alters  comes  to  him  if  he's  about 
to  git  in  trouble,  no  matter  where  he  happens  to  be.  Take  it 
from  me,  Arthur,  you'd  better  stop  playing  jokes  on  Jack  if 
you  don't  want  to  be  hanted,"  declared  Bud.  Arthur  said  noth- 
ing. He  was  dumb  with  fright  and  misery.  Presently  Bud 
asked : 

"Won't  your  folks  get  uneasy  and  hunt  us?  It  must  be 
purty  near  midnight !"  Arthur  groaned : 

"No  they  will  all  go  to  bed  and  sleep  and  never  miss  us  till 
morning!  They  will  find  Joe  shut  up  and  oh!  what  sort  of  a 
tale  can  we  get  up?  We  must  never  tell  a  soul  what  has 
really  happened," 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  21 

Now,  we  will  leave  our  two  crest-fallen  adventurers  and 
return  to  Mose  and  Jack. 

When  they  reached  the  bank  and  landed  in  the  dark  shad- 
ows, Jack,  convulsed  with  laughter,  rolled  on  the  ground,  kicked 
up  his  heels  and  conducted  himself  after  the  manner  of  a  real 
live  healthy  boy.    Mose,  too,  was  writhing  like  an  eel: 

"Golly!  I'm  'ginin  to  think  dis  here  am  de  bestest  tonic 
you'se  tuck  yet!  We'll  des  go  into  de  sperit  bizness  bi  de 
wholesale  if  it  gwine  ter  put  sum  life  in  yo'  lim's,  an  fill  yo' 
full  o'  tickle  lak  dat !  I  ain't  neber  had  sich  fun  in  awl  mah 
bawn  days.  Ha !  ha  a — a !  Honey,  I  des  cum  purty  nigh  bustin 
wide  open  when  dem  brats  went  rippin  up  de  ribber  frew 
all  dem  bramble  boo  vines  hunting  fur  day  boat  which  I  done 
hid!" 

"Are  we  going  to  let  them  stay  here  all  night,  Uncle  Mose?" 

"Shore  we  is!  Wouldn't  dey  lef  you  dar  all  night  all  by 
yo'  lil  lonesome?  Let  'em  drink  dey  own  cup  to  de  dregs.  Let 
'em  taste  de  wumwood  an  de  gall  o'  bitterness — it'll  do  'em  good, 
bress  de  Lawd!     Make  dey  livers  act!" 

Jack  stopped  in  with  Mose  a  few  minutes  to  tell  Aunt 
Dilsie  about  the  fun,  and  it  was  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures 
of  the  evening  to  see  her  hold  her  fat  sides  and  sway  back  and 
forth  in  uncontrolled  mirth. 

"Dat  ole  gown  wan't  wuf  much,"  she  said,  as  Uncle  Mose 
told  how  he  had  tied  a  rock  in  each  sleeve  and  sunk  it.  Mose 
felt  relieved.  He  had  feared  a  scolding  from  his  wife,  but  she 
was  too  happy  over  the  results  of  the  escapade,  to  care  how 
it  was  conducted.  And  Jack's  happy  face  and  shining  eyes  would 
have  paid  for  forty  gowns,  she  declared. 

Jack  went  on  home.  Passing  the  barn  he  heard  Joe  whine, 
and  opening  the  door,  turned  him  out.  The  dog  jumped  around 
him  joyously  and  followed  him  to  the  porch,  where  he  offered 
his  paw  and  barked  in  answer  to  Jack's  "goodnight." 

"Jack,  is  that  you?"  called  Mis'  Florence.  She  and  her 
husband  slept  downstairs. 

"Yes — this  is  Jack,"  he  answered. 

"Have  you  seen  Arthur  and  Bud  Ingram?'' 

"They  said  they  were  going  to  hunt  muskrats  and  I  let  'em 
have  Joe.  But  as  I  came  from  the  river,  I  found  Joe  fastened 
in  the  barn,"  answered  Jack,  hoping  that  he  could  answer  her 
questions  without  telling  an  untruth. 


22  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 


"i 


'I  don't  understand  that.  Jack,  take  Joe  and  get  Uncle 
Mose,  and  see  if  you  can  find  them.  Oh,  they  may  be  drowned !" 
she  wailed  in  distress. 

"Don't    worry,    Florence,    it   is    only    10:30 — not    late," 
soothed  Mr.  LeGrande,  coming  out  in  the  hall. 
Then  turning  to  Jack,  who  stood  irresolute. 

"Go,  son,  and  see  if  Joe  will  track  them.  Get  Mose  to  go 
with  you."    And  Jack  hurried  out  to  do  as  bidden. 

Mose  laughed  heartily: 

"Yah !  we'll  see  if  we  kin  find  any  trace  of  the  young  genle- 
mens,"  he  chuckled;  and  they  went  straight  to  the  river,  and 
had  just  time  to  hide  in  the  undergrowth  as  a  boat  landed. 

"Hi!"  whispered  Mose.    "Dey  found  de  boat  I  reckin!" 

"Hush,  Joe!"  whispered  Jack,  his  hand  on  the  dog's  collar. 
Then  to  Mose:  "I  don't  know — there's  three  of  'em!  Here 
they  come!  Sh!"  Arthur,  Bud  and  a  young  mulatto,  Sam, 
who  lived  on  the  place  came  up  the  bank.    Arthur  was  saying: 

"Sam,  I  won't  forget  this!  We  would  have  had  to  stay 
on  the  island  all  night  if  you  hadn't  heard  us  calling  for  help. 
But  don't  you  ever  dare  to  tell  this.  I  wouldn't  have  the  'gover- 
nor' to  know  we  lost  his  boat  for  anything."  Sam  promised  to 
keep  mum  and  struck  across  the  field  to  his  home  near  by,  and 
then  breaking  into  a  terrified  run,  the  boys  made  for  the  "big 
house.'' 

"We'll  des  take  dat  boat,  now  dis  minite,  an  fly  to  de  island 
an'  bring  in  dem  lost  boats!  Won't  day  be  puzzled  in  de 
mawnin'  to  find  dat  boat  hitched  to  de  ol  sycamo  tree  same  as 
eber!" 

It  only  took  a  few  minutes  for  them  to  row  over  and  get 
the  other  boats.  When  they  returned  to  the  "big  house"  Mr. 
LeGrande  informed  them  that  the  boys  had  come  in  and  gone 
to  bed. 

Again  bidding  Mose  and  Joe  "good-night"  Jack  went  to  his 
room.  He  could  see  that  a  light  was  burning  in  Arthur's  room 
and  could  hear  the  boys  talking  in  low  tones. 

He  had  retired  when,  with  lamp  in  hand  and  followed  by 
Bud,  Arthur  entered  the  room.  He  looked  around  as  if  expect- 
ing to  see  some  one  or  something,  then  spoke,  softly : 

"Jack,  are  you  sleepy?  We're  not,  and  if  you  aren't  we'll 
come  in  a  little  while,''  he  said. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  23 

"No,  I'm  not  much  sleepy,"  replied  Jack,  evenly,  sitting  up 
on  the  side  of  his  bed.  "Must  have  had  pretty  good  luck 
hunting  muskrats.  You  stayed  out  till  your  mother  was  uneasy 
about  you,"  replied  Jack. 

"Time  flies  like  forty  when  you  get  busy  hunting,"  grin- 
ned Bud.     "Did  you  have  good  luck? — catch  many  fish,  Jack?" 

"Best  luck  I  ever  had,"  replied  Jack.  Then  turning  to 
Arthur.  I  thought  you  wanted  Joe  to  hunt  muskrats?  What 
did  you  shut  him  in  the  barn  for?" 

"Oh — er — ah — we  concluded  not  to  take  him,"  stammered 
the  boy. 

Jack  did  not  press  the  subject,  and  try  as  they  would, 
they  could  get  no  satisfaction  out  of  him  concerning  his  trip 
to  the  island.  Bud  concluded  to  put  a  straight  question,  so 
he  laughingly  asked : 

"Did  you  see  anything  of  the  drowned  woman's  speret,  that 
ole  Dilsie  spoke  about?" 

"Did  you  expect  I'd  see  it?"  returned  Jack. 

"Naw !  but  say,  kid,  we  was  on  the  river  bank  and  thought 
we  saw  something  white  over  there  on  the  island  tonight — 
and — the  moon  was  mighty  bright  and — we  thought  we  saw 
the  white  thing  get  in  your  boat  with  you  and — " 

"Maybe  you  did,"  replied  Jack.  "I  saw  it  too.  Somebody 
had  stole  my  fish,  but  had  dropped  'em.  That  white  thing 
showed  me  where  they  was.  I  asked  it  to  ride,  just  as  I  told 
Aunt  Dilsie  I  would,  and  it  got  in  the  boat  and  sat  down. 
When  we  were  about  half  way  the  thing  screamed  and  first 
thing  I  knew  the  white  thing  sailed  into  the  water  and  went 
under." 

Arthur  turned  pale  and  began  to  tremble.  Bud's  teeth  chat- 
tered and  his  eyes  were  wide. 

"Wasn't  you  skeered?"  he  asked  in  low,  awed  tones. 

"Not  a  bit,"  declared  Jack.  "What  would  I  be  scared  for? 
I've  never  done  anybody  a  harm." 

"Well,  deliver  me!"  Bud  ejaculated  fervently. 

"No  ghosts  for  mine!"  added  Arthur.  "And  I  am  not 
anxious  to  keep  company  with  any  one  who  is  on  such  good 
terms  with  spooks  and  hants!  Come  on,  Bud,  and  let's  get  out 
of  here,"  and  Arthur  looked  around  the  room  as  if  expecting 
to  see  the  "white  thing."  An  innocent  little  mouse  at  that 
moment  made  a  slight  noise  in  the  closet,  and  the  boys  rushed 


24  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

from  the  room  not  a  little  frightened,  while  Jack  almost 
smothered  himself  with  a  pillow,  to  stifle  his  laughter. 

Arthur  was  a  little  more  careful  after  that,  about  playing 
tricks  on  Jack,  but  teased  him  at  every  possible  chance. 

A  few  days  before  Arthur  went  to  school,  he  and  his 
mother  and  father,  went  to  Rockingham,  presumably  to  get 
Arthur's  school  clothes.  But  in  reality,  Mr.  LeGrande's  busi- 
ness was  to  see  a  lawyer  and  make  his  will,  something  that 
his  wife  had  urged  for  some  time,  declaring  that  it  was  a 
precaution  that  every  one  should  take  against  the  insecurities 
and  uncertainties  of  life. 

A  few  days  after  Arthur  had  gone,  "Mis'  Florence" 
managed  to  corner  Jack  in  the  sitting  room.  She  had  just 
heard  her  husband  enter  the  adjoining  room  and  knowing  that 
he  could  hear  every  word,  she  proceeded  to  talk  to  the  boy. 

"Jack,  dear,  Arthur  is  gone,  now,  and  I  hope  your  father 
and  I  shall  see  more  of  you,"  she  said  in  a  fawning  voice; 
but  there  was  an  unmistakable  sneer  on  her  lips  and  a  banter- 
ing look  in  her  eyes  that  belied  her  words.  Jack  wondered, 
but  kept  silent.    She  continued : 

"I  am  afraid  my  big,  strong,  healthy  boy  was  too  rough 
in  his  play  sometimes,  for  a  boy  of  your  delicate  mould.  Was 
it  not  so?"  tenderly. 

"I  have  never  complained,  have  I?"  returned  Jack  coldly. 
To  save  his  life  he  could  not  like  or  trust  his  step-mother.  She 
had  repelled  him  from  the  very  beginning.  He  was  tired,  too, 
of  being  called  "delicate." 

"No,  dear,  but  I  have  feared  it  was  so.  Jack,  I  sent  my 
boy  away  for  your  sake.  I  want  you  to  learn  to  love  me  as  I 
love  you :  Won't  you  try?  And,  oh,  I'd  be  so  pleased — so  would 
your  dear  father — if  you  would  call  me  'mother.'  Won't  you?" 
How  very  well  she  knew  that  he  wouldn't ! 

"I  can't  do  that,"  replied  the  lad  in  a  hard  strained  voice. 

"Why  can't  you  like  me,  dear?"  plaintively,  pleadingly,  but 
with  a  devilsh  smile  on  her  lips. 

"Just  because  I  can't"  he  blurted  out. 

"Have  Mose  and  Dilsie  prejudiced  you  against  me?"  and 
she  beamed  in  satisfaction  as  she  saw  that  Jack  was  about  to 
give  an  exhibition  of  his  temper. 

"No,  they  have  not,"  emphatically,  the  hot  blood  mounting 
to  his  fair  cheeks. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  25 

"Dearie,  don't  be  cross — you  don't  know  how  I  crave  your 
love  and  confidence." 

Jack  was  about  to  make  an  impatient  retort.  He  knew 
the  value  of  her  expressions.  He  was  puzzled,  though  to  know 
why  she  was  talking  thus,  when  his  father  was  not  there  to 
hear.  No  childish  heart  ever  craved  love  and  sympathy  more, 
but  intuition  warned  Jack  against  his  step-mother. 

"Let's  kiss  and  be  good  friends,"  came  the  tender,  caressing 
voice,  but  the  tantalizing  gleam  in  her  eyes  and  the  sneering 
curl  of  her  lips  filled  Jack  with  fury.  Angry  tears  filled  his 
eyes. 

"Let  me  out  of  here!"  he  demanded,  starting  to  the  door, 
but  she  intercepted  him  and  he  backed  away  from  her. 

"Oh,  Jack,  dear  Jack!  do  be  good!" 

Suddenly,  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  comprehension  dawned 
on  the  child's  mind.  Dashing  across  the  room  he  parted  the 
curtains  which  hung  between  the  two  rooms,  peeped  in,  and 
there  saw  his  father.  Turning,  he  faced  his  step-mother  with 
flashing  eyes  and  withering  scorn : 

"I  thought  so!"  he  hissed  between  clenched  teeth,  and 
dashed  past  her  and  from  the  room. 

With  a  low  moan,  the  woman  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands,  her  form  quivering  convulsively,  while 
she  listened  for  the  approach  of  her  husband.  Presently,  he 
stood  by  her  side  and  stroked  her  bowed  head: 

"Wife!  Flora!"  she  sprang  up  looking' very  much  troubled 
and  confused. 

"Oh,  Henry!     When  did  you  come  in?" 

"I  heard  every  word,  dearest.  Don't  worry — the  boy  is 
ungrateful  and  incomprehensible.  But  we  have  one  son  who  will 
be  a  comfort  to  us.  How  glad  I'll  be  when  Arthur  finishes  school 
and  comes  home  to  stay !  Jack  is  a  terrible  disappointment  to  me. 
Just  let  him  alone,  dear — make  no  more  humiliating  advances. 
I  can't  bear  to  see  you  suffer  so  from  his  rudeness,"  he  said  sadly. 

Jack  saw  his  father  leave  the  house  soon  after,  and  followed 
him.  His  cheeks  were  red  with  resentment  over  the  trick  that 
had  been  played  on  him.  His  childish  heart  throbbed  painfully. 
He  knew  that  his  father  was  grieved  over  his  conduct.  He 
wanted  to  set  himself  aright  in  his  father's  eyes — yet,  how  could 
he?  Running,  he  caught  up  and  took  his  father's  hand,  and 
looked  up  wistfully  into  his  face. 


26  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Papa,  don't  be  angry  with  me!"  he  pleaded.  He  got  no 
reply.  His  father  looked  at  him  coldly,  and  impatiently  with- 
drew his  hand,  and  stopped  in  the  shade  of  a  large  oak. 

"Papa!"  cried  Jack.  "Oh,  Papa,  don't  you  care  for  me 
at  all  any  more?" 

"Is  your  conduct  such  as  will  inspire  love?" 

"Papa,  you  don't  understand — you  won't  understand!" 

"I  understand  that  you  are  ungrateful  and  very  disrespectful 
to  your  step-mother.  I  heard  you  not  more  than  an  hour  ago, 
and  your  curt,  sharp  retort,  as  she  pleaded  for  your  love  and 
confidence — " 

"But,  papa!"  wailed  Jack.  "You  don't  know  everything! 
Oh,  don't  be  so  hard  on  me?" 

"Now,  young  man,  what  is  it  that  I  don't  know?" 

"Papa,  I  don't  think  Mis'  Florence  is  a  good — " 

"You  don't  think!  That's  no  reason  for  your  prejudice. 
Jack,  and  don't  ever  let  me  hear  that  again.    Now,  what  else?'' 

Jack  felt  intuitively  that  he  was  on  dangerous  ground  and 
changed  the  subject. 

"Papa,  when  am  I  ever  going  to  school?  You  are  going 
to  make  a  fine  man  of  Arthur." 

"And  are  you  jealous?  Is  that  the  trouble?  I'll  send  you 
to  school  when  you  get  strong  enough  to  bear  the  confinement 
of  a  school  room.  In  the  meantime  try  and  improve  your 
manners  and  disposition.    Try  to  be  more  like  Arthur." 

"Like  Arthur?  He  is  a  coward,  a  sneak  and  a  thief!"  de- 
clared Jack.    "I  don't  want  to  be  like  him !" 

"Jack!     Take  care!" 

"Well,  he  is!"  stoutly.  "He  has  pecked  on  me  every  time 
he  got  the  chance  all  the  time  since  he  came  here,  and  his 
mother  knows  it.  She  never  tried  to  stop  him,  either!  And 
he  and  Bud  Ingram  stole  my  fish  and  Uncle  Mose's  water- 
melons— even  cut  up  some  of  his  nicest  ones  just  for  pure  down- 
right meanness!" 

"Oh,  well,  a  live,  wide-awake  boy  of  Arthur's  age  is  gen- 
erally getting  into  mischief.  I  never  knew  a  boy  who  wouldn't 
steal  a  watermelon  or  rob  a  fish  basket,  and  think  it  more 
fun  than  harm." 

"I  wouldn't  do  it — I'll  never  do  such  things !"  declared  Jack 
hotly. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  27 

"Henry,  dear!  may  I  go  with  you?"  called  "Mrs.  Florence" 
sweetly,  coming  toward  them  with  a  large  sunshade  on  her 
head,  and  looking  -very  charming  in  a  dainty  pink  gingham 
dress.    It  was  still  quite  warm,  though  the  middle  of  September. 

"Certainly,  wife, — glad  of  your  company.  Am  just  going 
down  to  the  pasture  to  see  after  some  new  pigs,"  replied  Mr. 
LeGrande,  smiling  as  he  turned  to  her. 

Jack  heaved  a  sigh  and  walked  away,  wondering  how  it 
was  that  he  never  could  have  a  talk  with  his  father  without 
being  interrupted. 

The  months  rolled  by  and  the  breach  between  father  and 
son  seemed  to  grow  wider  and  deeper.  Jack  was  naturally 
jealous  of  his  father's  marked  affection  for  his  wife  and  thought 
with  an  aching  heart  of  the  delicate,  blue  eyed  mother  beneath 
the  sod  in  the  family  burying  ground,  across  the  hill.  Hardly 
a  day  passed  that  he  and  Joe  did  not  visit  her  grave.  The 
lonely  child  always  felt  comforted  in  this  sacred  spot,  as  if 
indeed  his  mother's  spirit  came  to  him  whispering  peace  to 
his  troubled  heart. 

Arthur  came  home  for  Xmas,  and  again  in  June  to  spend 
vacation.  He  was  developing  into  a  tall,  well  proportioned 
youth,  and  would  have  been  really  handsome,  but  for  the  hard 
lines  around  his  mouth  and  the  mocking  light  in  his  black  eyes. 
He  delighted  to  tease  Jack,  when  it  was  convenient  and  safe, 
and  took  especial  pride  in  talking  to  him  in  such  brilliant, 
high-flown  language,  that  the  child's  ignorance  was  awful  by 
contrast  and  made  him  seem  almost  idiotic.  Jack,  small,  bare- 
footed and  with  overalls  on,  his  pale  cheeks,  blue  eyes  and 
yellow  curls  shaded  by  a  big  torn  straw  hat,  was  quite  a  contrast 
in  looks  too,  to  this  strong,  robust  lad  in  uniform,  who  was 
"too  large  to  go  barefooted."  Jack,  jealous  of  the  difference 
and  resenting  the  cause,  kept  more  and  more  to  himself,  eating 
when  and  where  he  could,  the  bits  of  lunch  fixed  for  him  by 
the  faithful  Dilsie. 

Xmas  had  come  the  second  time,  and  Arthur  was  again 
home  for  the  holidays,  looking  still  more  elegant,  with  manners 
and  conversation  so  refined  and  polished  that  even  his  mother 
was  astonished.  Mr.  LeGrande  waked  up  to  the  difference  he 
was  making  in  the  two  boys,  and  began  to  grow  a  bit  thoughtful. 
Surely  it  was  high  time  for  Jack  to  be  in  school.  Perhaps  that 
was  just  what  the  lad  needed  to  make  him  develop  aright.     He 


28  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

recalled  the  child's  words  when  Arthur  was  sent  away:  "Papa 
when  are  you  going  to  send  me  to  school?  You  are  going  to 
make  a  fine  man  of  Arthur."  His  heart  smote  him.  He  won- 
dered how  it  was  that  he  had  so  long  neglected  his  own  child. 
Thoughts  of  his  first  love,  the  gentle  Evelyn,  came  to  him.  He 
raised  his  eyes  to  her  portrait  that  hung  on  the  wall,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  there  was  a  reproachful  look  in  her  big 
blue  eyes. 

"Evelyn,  forgive  me!"  he  whispered,  going  and  standing 
in  front  of  the  portrait, — "Forgive  me,  dear!" 

Just  at  that  moment  his  wife  entered  the  room.  "Oh, 
Henry,  come  and  see  my  Xmas  cactus,  it  is  blooming  beautifully. 
Mose  has  jUst  brought  it  in  from  the  flower  pit,"  and  she 
slipped  her  arm  in  his  and  drew  him  from  the  room. 

That  same  afternoon,  she  and  Arthur  held  a  whispered 
conversation,  snatching  a  few  moments  alone  unnoticed.  That 
night  when  all  had  retired,  there  was  a  terrible  noise  in  the 
parlor,  as  of  some  heavy  object  falling.  All  the  family  were 
awakened.  Mr.  LeGrande  rushed  from  his  room  and  found 
Arthur  in  the  hall. 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Mr.  LeGrande. 

"Don't  know — just  ran  down  to  see — was  in  my  room  read- 
ing; thought  it  was  down  here  somewhere." 

Mr.  LeGrade  picked  up  a  lamp  from  the  hall  table  and 
entered  the  parlor  just  as  Jack  came  rushing  down. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

"Ah !"  cried  Mr.  LaGrande  in  dismay.  "How  could  this  have 
happened!"  and  he  bent  over  his  dead  wife's  portrait,  utterly 
ruined  by  broken  glass,  as  the  wreck  lay  upon  the  floor. 

"Oh,  my  beautiful  mama!"  sobbed  Jack,  while  Mr.  Le- 
Grande gazed  in  anguish,  mixed  with  awe  and  superstition 
on  the  torn  canvass. 

"That  means  a  death  in  the  family,"  he  at  last  whispered, 
as  his  wife  came  in  with  sweet  words  or  sympathy  and  many 
expressions  of  sorrow. 

From  that  day  the  man  became  moody  and  silent.  He  had 
examined  the  cord  from  which  the  picture  hung,  and  though 
not  a  detective,  could  see  plainly  that  it  had  been  cut.  Who 
would  wish  to  destroy  the  portrait?     His  wife  did  not  do  it, 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  29 

for  she  was  sleeping  peacefully  by  his  side.  He  reproached 
himself  for  thinking  of  her  in  connection  with  the  deed,  yet 
he  could  not  shake  it  from  his  mind.  He  recalled  the  gleam  in 
her  eyes  as  she  led  him  away  from  the  picture  to  see  the  cactus. 
He  felt  in  his  heart  that  there  was  a  traitor  in  his  household, 
yet  he  was  ashamed  of  the  thought.    How  could  it  be? 

*     *     *     * 

Jack  was  highly  elated  when  told  that  he  should  go  to 
school  the  following  September,  and  thanked  his  father  with 
tears  in  his  eyes. 

"Papa,"  he  said,  "I  won't  ever  be  as  fine  looking  as  Arthur, 
but  I'll  try  to  be  a  good  man  when  I  grow  up,  and — Papa — I 
don't  tell  lies — like  Arthur  does.  He  lied  last  night — he  left 
his  room  and  went  down  stairs  before  the — the  accident  to 
Mama's  picture.  He  told  you  he  was  in  his  room  reading 
when  it  fell.    He  lied!" 

"Hush;  my  boy,  hush!"  groaned  the  man.  "Why  should  he 
have  done  such  a  thing? 

"I  don't  know,  Papa,  but  I  do  know  he  lied.  But  that  ain't 
nothing — he  tells  'em  every  day.  Papa  that  picture  cord  never 
broke  by  itself — it  was  cut.  I  looked  at  it  good!"  asserted  the 
boy  positively. 

"Jack(  say  no  more,"  commanded  his  father,  amazed  to 
learn  that  Jack  too,  was  suspicious. 

When  Arthur  again  returned  to  school,  the  ice  slowly 
melted  between  father  and  son.  Strange,  that  the  wreck  of 
the  beautiful  portrait  should  have  drawn  them  toward  each 
other.  "Mis'  Florence"  ground  her  teeth  in  rage  and  dismay, 
as  she  saw  the  growing  intimacy  between  the  two,  and  realized 
that  her  power  over  the  man  was  not  so  great  as  in  the  past. 
The  fact  was,  he  had  accidentally  overheard  some  of  her  cutting 
remarks  to  Jack  once  or  twice,  and  was  beginning  to  wonder. 

One  night  Jack  had  not  come  in.  It  was  a  beautiful  moon- 
light night  in  May.  Mr.  LeGrande  walked  out  to  Mose's  cabin 
and  inquired  for  the  child. 

"Lawsy  massy!  Ain't  dat  chile  in  bed?-  Here  it  am  10 
o'clock!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Dilsie,  as  she  and  Uncle  Mose  both 
got  out  of  bed. 

"Speck  he  at  Mis'  Evelyn's  grave !  He  allers  go  dar  when 
he  in  trubble!"  declared  Mose. 


30  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"In  trouble?    What  has  he  got  to  trouble  him?" 

"Don't  axe  me  nuttin  Marse  Henry, — 'corse  he  ain't  orter 

had  no  trubble — poor  little  lam." 

"Mose!  tell  me  this  instant — what  do  you  mean,  demanded 

the  man. 

"Marse  Henry,  you's  done  gone  an  axe  me  a  hard  ques- 
tion.   I  don't  lak  to  tell  tales.    I — '' 

"Well!  Shet  up  den'  coward!"  retorted  Aunt  Dilsie.  Then 
she  turned  to  Mr.  LeGrande,  determinedly: 

"Marse  Henry,  I'se  wanted  yo'  to  open  yo'  eyes  er  long 
time,  an  see  fer  yerself  how  dat  chil's  been  treated  fo'  de  las' 
four  year.  He's  been  pecked  on  by  dat  brat  Arthur  an  nagged 
by  dat  'oman  twel  de  chile  mighty  nigh  crazy  sometimes.  She 
been  scoldin  him  today  'twel  I  mighty  ni  busted  wif  madness. 
An'  he  hain't  done  nuffin,  ceptin  bring  er  little  mud  in  de  house 
on  his  dead  mudder's  kyarpet!  Yah!  I'll  tell  yo' — dat  chile 
jes  a  grievin  he  se'f  to  def ;  dats  what!  Bet  yo'  right  now  he 
lyin'  on  his  mudder's  grave," 

Mr.  LeGrande  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  ran  across  the 
field  and  over  the  hill  to  the  family  burying  ground.  In  the 
moonlight,  the  tall  cedars  cast  long  dark  shadows  over  the  spot. 
But  one  grave  was  unshadowed — the  grave  of  his  dead  wife. 
Across  the  mound  lay  Jack  fast  asleep,  sobbing  even  yet,  and 
heaving  fitful  sighs.  By  his  side  lay  Joe,  one  paw  thrown  pro— 
tectingly  over  the  body  of  his  master.  Joe  raised  his  head  at 
the  approach  of  Mr.  LeGrande,  then  wagged  his  tail  in  welcome. 

The  man  was  about  to  gather  the  little  form  up  in  his  arms, 
but  stopped  to  listen :     The  lad  was  talking  in  his  sleep : 

"Mama,  what  made  you  leave  me?  Come  and  get  me, 
Mama !  I  can't  stay  here !  She's  mad  'cause  Papa  is  loving  me 
a  little.  Come  and  get  me,  Mama — I'm  so  lonesome!"  Joe 
raised  his  head  and  howled  a  low,  heartrending  wail.  Suddenly 
the  man  bent  and  stared  across  the  grave.  What  was  that 
white  misty  form  gathering  there  in  the  shadows?  Slowly  it 
took  shape  in  the  man's  fancy,  and  he  saw  a  woman  with  golden 
hair  and  flowing  robes,  standing  with  arms  outstretched  to 
the  child.  Great  beads  of  perspiration  gathered  on  the  man's 
forehead. 

"Oh,  Evelyn,  Evelyn,  don't  take  him  from  me!''  he  groaned. 
"Forgive  me!     Forgive  me,  for  neglecting  him!"     He  pressed 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  31 

his  hands  over  his  eyes,  and  when  he  looked  again,  he  saw- 
nothing  but  the  white  tombstones.  Again  he  felt  the  present- 
ment of  coming  trouble — felt  that  soon  another  grave  would 
be  made.  Would  it  be  Jack?  Would  his  prayer  be  answered? 
Kneeling  beside  the  boy  he  called  him. 

"Jack,  son!"  then  gathered  him  up  in  his  arms,  the  child's 
damp  curls  against  his  cheek.  The  boy  sighed,  opened  his 
eyes  and  threw  his  arms  around  his  father's  neck.     Then: 

"Why,  Papa!  where  am  I?  Oh! — "  as  he  looked  around 
and  remembered.     "She  was  with  me  tonight." 

"Who,  my  son?" 

"Mama!  I  didn't  see  her  but  I  felt  her — I  know  she  was 
there."     The  man  shuddered. 

"Jack,  you  will  catch  your  death  in  the  night  air  this  way. 
Why  did  you  do  it?  I  was  so  frightened  about  you."  Holding 
him  closer. 

Half  way  to  the  house  they  met  "Mis'  Florence."  "Why, 
Henry!  what  is  the  matter  with  the  child?  Is  he  dead?  Why 
do  you  carry  him?"  she  exclaimed. 

"He  is  not  dead.  I  carry  him  to  ease  the  ache  in  my  heart," 
he  answered  curtly,  and  she  wondered  uneasily. 

Jack  was  quite  feverish  next  morning.  Had  taken  a  deep 
cold.  His  father  sent  a  negro  on  a  fast  horse  to  Rockingham 
for  a  doctor,  while  he  sat  by  the  bed  and  held  the  child's  flut- 
tering hands,  never  for  a  moment  leaving  him. 

His  wife,  more  uneasy  over  the  attitude  of  her  husband, 
than  concerned  over  Jack's  illness,  hovered  in  the  background, 
near  enough  to  hear  the  child  muttering  in  his  delirium.  She 
noted  the  white,  stern  face  and  compressed  lips  of  her  husband 
as  he  bent  to  catch  the  words,  and  trembled.  Once  he  turned 
to  her  and  groaned: 

"Oh,  Flora,  if  he  dies  I'll  never  forgive  myself — or  you! 
Dear  little  heart — instead  of  coming  to  me  with  his  troubles 
he  would  go  to  his  dead  mother  and  she  comforted  him! 

"I  have  been  blind,  but  am  beginning  to  see,  and  henceforth, 
I'll  know  my  little  one's  troubles.  God!  he  shall  have  none! 
Do  you  hear  Flora?"  with  a  determined  gleam  in  his  eyes  that 
she  could  not  mistake. 

"Yes,  Henry,  but  I  don't  understand  you." 

"Don't  you  ?  Well,  study  it  over,  please,  and  when  you  have 
arrived  at  a  conclusion,  try  to  profit  by  it,"  coldly. 


32  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Henry,  tell  me  plainly  what  you  mean,"  demanded  his  wife. 

"I  mean  that  no  one  shall  make  my  child's  life  miserable. 
I've  thought  that  he  shunned  us  all  because  of  some  chilldish 
and  unreasonable  jealousy— that  the  fault  was  all  his  own.  How 
little  I  understood !" 

"Henry,  do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  have  mistreated 
your  child?'''  and  the  low  voice  trembled.  Her  pretty  hands 
were  pressed  to  her  heart  and  her  black  eyes,  wide  in  pained 
surprise  were  full  of  tears,  as  she  came  and  knelt  beside  him. 
"Heaven  is  my  witness — I  have  faithfully  tried  to  win  his 
affections — I  have  never  been  unkind  to  him !  Oh — Henry,  you 
have  wronged  me !  The  child  has  never  liked  me,  and  has  always 
misconstrued  my  motives  in  everything." 

"Joe,  old  boy!"  murmured  the  boy,  and  the  man  turned 
from  his  wife  and  bent  to  listen,  while  the  dog  lying  at  his  feet, 
rose  hastily,  whined  and  stood  up,  his  paws  on  the  bed,  and 
no  one  objected. 

"Joe,  old  boy!  Papa  don't  know,  and  we  can't  tell  him. 
We  mustn't  be  tattle  tales.  Poor  Papa!  Fix  me  a  bag  lunch, 
Mammy  Dilsie, — Me  and  Joe  will  have  a  picnic  in  the  meadow 
and  feed  the  birds.  We  won't  dirty  her  white  table  cloth,  or 
bring  any  mud  in  the  hall — we'll  just  stay  out  of  the  way,  Joe — 
you  and  me." 

"Oh,  God!"  groaned  the  man  in  anguish,  and  "Mis'  Florence" 
was  so  glad  that  the  doctor  came  in  at  that  time,  and  checked 
the  words  that  rose  to  her  husband's  lips.  The  doctor  glanced 
approvingly  at  the  tearful  woman  as  she  rose  from  her  knees, 
and  thought  that  she  certainly  must  be  a  most  wonderful  step- 
mother, to  be  so  concerned  over  this  sick  lad. 

"Never  mind,  Joe, — old  boy,  we  are  going  to  school,  me  and 
you;  and  we  are  going  to  have  uniforms,  too!  And  we'll  grow 
so  big  and  strong  they  can't  call  us  'delicate'  any  more — and 
we'll  always  be  good,  Joe,  just  as  Mama  told  me,"  continued 
the  boy. 

The  doctor  sat  down  and  began  his  examinatons. 

"Pneumonia,"  he  said,  very  gravely.  "But  as  we  are  on  the 
job  early,  I  think  we  can  break  it  up  by  fighting  hard. 

"Doctor,  you  must  stay  right  here — you  must  not  leave. 
Money  is  no  object,  now  that  my  child's  life  is  in  danger." 

"But  I  have  other  patients — " 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  33 

"You  shall  not  leave !"  interrupted  the  father.  "Write  any 
instructions  you  please  to  your  assistant— I'll  send  a  negro 
with  any  message  for  you— you  shall  not  leave  my  boy !" 

And  the  father  had  his  way — the  doctor  stayed  almost  all 
the  time.  Even  in  delirium,  Jack  shrank  as  if  frightened,  from 
the  touch  of  his  stepmother,  and  tossed  his  head  fretfully  when 
she  spoke  to  him  in  low,  tender,  caressing  tones. 

"It  is  very  strange  that  he  becomes  irritated  when  his 
mother  is  around,"  mused  the  doctor.  "But,  then,  sick  people 
have  strange  fancies,  and  it  is  often  best  to  humor  them."  Then 
to  Mrs.  LeGrande:  "It  might  be  well  for  you  to  stay  out  of 
the  room,  madam,  for  a  day  or  two,  and  let's  see  if  he  will 
become  more  quiet,"  said  the  doctor  early  one  morning. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  bear  to  be  banished,  but  will  submit 
to  anything  for  the  dear  child's  sake,"  she  murmured  resignedly. 
"You  will  come  to  me  often,  and  let  me  know  how  he  is?"  she 
pleaded,  looking  into  the  doctor's  face  with  tear-dimmed  eyes. 

"Certainly,  madam,"  and  the  doctor  led  her  to  the  door. 
"I'm  sorry  to  send  you  out,  but  feel  that  I  must  humor  my  patient. 
You  understand,  dear  lady,  and  will  feel  no  resentment  I  know." 

"Do  you  think  he  will  die?"  she  whispered  when  she  had 
reached  the  door.    "Must  I  send  for  Arthur  to  come  home?" 

"I  can't  tell  yet,  dear  madam,  but,  while  there's  life  there's 
hope.    No,  don't  send  for  your  son." 

"No,  indeed!"  supplemented  Mr.  LeGrande. 

The  lady  made  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  where  Aunt  Dilsie 
was  busy  among  pots  and  pans,  her  eyes  expressing  a  dumb, 
helpless  agony.  Uncle  Mose,  too,  was  drooping  in  one  corner, 
his  gray  head  bowed  in  his  wrinkled  hands.  Both  faithful  hearts 
were  wrung  with  anguish.  The  falling  of  the  portrait  meant 
a  death  in  the  family,  and  each  believed  that  little  Jack  would 
soon  be  lying  by  the  young  mother,  whose  memory  he  seemed  to 
cherish  more  and  more,  as  he  grew  older. 

"Mis'  Florence"  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  her  lips 
tightly  drawn  in  a  determined  line  across  her  white  teeth. 

"What  kind  of  tales  have  you  two  been  telling  your  master?" 
she  demanded  threateningly.  Dilsie's  round  face  took  on  an 
expression  of  innocent  surprise.  Mose  raised  his  head  and 
stared  at  her  a  moment  then  blurted  out : 

"Now,  fo'  de  Lawd's  sake,  Mis'  Florence,  what  am  yo'  talkin 


34  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

about?  We  doan  know  nuffin  to  tell  to  Marse,  now  does  we? 
'Clare  to  heben,  I  ain't  tole  him  no  lies,  an'  Dilsie  hain't  nudder, 
if  dat  what  you  mean." 

"I'll  catch  up  with  you — you  impudent  black  apes!  You 
can't  fool  me!     Some  of  these  days  I'll  have  you  leaving  here!" 

"Ah!  Not  quite  so  fast  Florence!"  spoke  a  quiet  voice 
behind  her,  and  turning  she  looked  into  the  pale,  stern  face  of 
her  husband. 

"Oh,  Henry,  forgive  me,  but  these  servants  of  yours  have 
been  humored  so  long,  and  have  done  as  they  pleased,  until 
they  are  really  trifling.  Of  course,  I  only  meant  to  scare  them 
a  bit.  Just  see  what  frightful  disorder!  Everything  should 
have  been  in  perfect  order  more  than  an  hour  ago,"  she 
faltered. 

"That's  all  right,  Florence.  It  makes  no  difference  about 
the  disorder  of  the  kitchen.  Their  hearts  are  good  and  true  and 
in  the  right  place:  God  bless  'em!  They'll  never  leave  here. 
That's  a  settled  fact."     Then  to  Dilsie: 

"The  doctor  wants  you  and  Mose  to  take  it  turn  about  and 
stay  with  Jack.     The  child  wants  his  black  mammy — and — " 

"Bless  mah  honey  lam! — I'se  gwine  dis  berry  minite!" 
cried  Aunt  Dilsie,  jerking  off  her  big  gingham  apron,  hurriedly 
pinning  on  a  snowy  white  one,  and  dashing  from  the  room. 

"Me,  too!"  and  Uncle  Mose  sprang  up  like  a  young  panther, 
but  his  master  stopped  him : 

"Not  now,  Mose,  but  later.  Go  for  your  married  daughter, 
Sallie,  and  tell  her  to  come  and  take  charge  of  this  kitchen. 
And  Mose,  don't  you  ever  worry  about  having  to  leave  here— 
it  will  never  happen.  Filed  away  in  the  court  house  at  Rock- 
ingham is  a  deed  giving  you  and  Dilsie  your  house  and  25  acres 
of  land  lying  back  of  it,"  patting  the  old  man's  hand  reassuringly. 

"Oh,  Marse  Henry — "   exclaimed  Mose  tearfully,  "I'se — " 

"Not  a  word  of  thanks,  Mose, — it's  no  more  than  is  just 
and  r'ght.  Go  on  and  bring  Sallie!"  And  all  the  time  Mis' 
Florence  stood  unnoticed,  her  authority  and  wishes  completely 
ignored, — even  her  presence  seemingly  forgotten,  by  her  lord 
and  master. 

When  Mose  had  gone  Mr.  LaGrande  turned  to  leave  the 
room,  and  was  confronted  by  his  wife: 

"Henry!  for  heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  has  come  between 
us?     How  have  I  lost  my  place  in  your  heart?     Why  do  you 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  35 

insult  me  before  your  servants,  ignoring  my  right  to  adjust 
matters  as  I  see  fit?  Wouldn't  it  have  been  nicer  of  you  to 
have  consulted  my  wishes  about  installing  Sallie  in  the  kitchen  ?" 
"My  dear  lady,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
all  the  cogwheels  of  the  universe  have  slipped.  Everything  is 
wrong.  Since  finding  that  the  woman  to  whom  I  gave  my  heart 
and  name  is  altogether  unworthy  of  both,  is  it  strange  if  I 
assume  that  she  has  forfeited  all  right  to  direct  my  household? 
Florence,  I  loved  you  for  what'  I  thought  you  were — not  what 
I've  found  you  to  be."  Taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket  he  handed 
it  to  her  with  a  mocking  bow,  saying: 

"I  thought  it  was  addressed  to  me,  and  all  too  late  I  found 
that  it  was  to  'Mrs.'  instead  of  Mr.  Henry  LeGrande."  Then 
he  left  her  and  returned  to  the  bedside  of  little  Jack. 

The  proud  woman  sank  limply  into  a  chair,  her  face  white 
as  death  and  her  hands  trembling.  Slowly  and  with  eyes  wide 
with  horror,  she  drew  the  letter  from  the  envelope  and  read: 

"Danville,  Va. 
"Well,  Dear  Flo : 

"How  are  you  getting  along  with  your  clodhopper  hubby? 
Any  chance  of  your  being  a  rich  widow  soon?  Don't  see  how 
you  can  stand  it  out  in  the  country  with  nowhere  to  go  to  pass 
off  time.  I  guess  the  stepson  is  a  nuisance  all  right,  but  as 
you  say  he  is  very  sick,  maybe  he'll  make  his  exit  to  celestial 
regions  and  leave  you  in  complete  possession.  I  know  the  'old 
man'  is  like  dough  in  your  hands  and  that  you'll  have  no  trouble 
getting  hold  of  the  estate — you  were  always  so  charming  and 
fascinating.  We  can  safely  believe  you  will  shuffle  the  cards  to 
suit  yourself,  and  play  a  winning  game  in  the  end.  Good  luck 
to  you — especially  as  we  are  in  need  of  some  of  the  adorable 
greenback.  Your  loving  sister, 

"Dora" 

Though  pale  as  death,  as  she  saw  her  ruin,  the  woman  made 
no  outcry.  Already,  her  fertile  brain  was  trying  to  devise  some 
/means  of  escape  from  this  terrible  net  of  evidence.  A  bitter 
smile  curled  her  lips  as  she  gazed  from  the  window. 

"What  a  cruel  prank  of  fate !  I'll  never  be  able  to  make  him 
believe  that  I  really  do  truly  love  him  for  himself  alone,  now 
when  I  have  lost  him!     Life  is  a  hard  game  at  best!     Oh,  if  I 


36  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

had  one  more  chance,  I'd  try  to  be  all  that  his  great  heart 
believes  me  to  be.    God  help  me!" 

Sallie  walked  in  briskly  and  deposited  a  little  pickanniny 
on  the  floor,  in  the  spot  of  sunshine  that  came  through  the 
window. 

"And  how  is  lil'  Marse  Jack,  mam?"  she  asked. 

"'Very,  very  sick,  Sallie.  Mammy  Dilsie  is  to  help  nurse 
him  and  you  are  to  look  after  things  in  her  place." 

"Yas'm — I'se  done  hearn  all  erbout  dat,  an'  Fse  gwine  ter 
be  right  here  long  es  Marse  Henry  needs  me,"  and  the  bright, 
clean,  capable  Sallie  proceeded  to  don  Dilsie's  big  work  apron, 
while  confusing  thoughts  chased  each  other  through  the  throb- 
bing brain  of  the  woman  who  watched  her,  and  felt  that  she 
was  completely  left  out  of  the  arrangements. 

Mis'  Florence  left  the  room  presently  and  Sallie  shook  the 
rolling  pin  at  her  retreating  figure: 

"Yah!  you'd  run  mah  poor  ole  daddy  an'  mammy  offen  dis 
place  would  ye,  Mis'  Stuck  Upity?  But  you  ain't  got  no  deed 
to  dis  plantation  yit!"  and  Sallie,  proceeded  to  business  with 
surprising  vim  and  energy.  She  was  the  only  living  child  of 
Mose  and  Dilsie,  and  she  had  already  begun  to  speculate  as  to 
what  their  newly  acquired  property  meant  for  her.  Sallie  gave 
her  baby  a  piece  of  bread  and  said: 

"Yes,  honey!  dat  triflin'  daddy  o'  yorn  '11  be  turnin  up 
soon's  he  hear  de  news,  but  we  gwine  ter  make  him  eat  dirt 
'fore  we  takes  him  in  again.  He's  a  good  niggah  in  some  ways, 
but  he  des  ain't  got  no  henergy  an  amnition,  and  he  got  to  git 
some  'fore  he  lays  any  claim  to  a  inch  ob  de  LeGran'  plantation." 

Upstairs,  Aunt  Dilsie  crooned  lullabies  to  her  "honey  lam," 
who  smiled  peacefully  even  in  delirium  as  he  clung  to  the  old 
wrinkled  black  hand  that  had  nursed  and  caressed  him  all  his  life. 

It  was  the  hour  of  change,  for  better  or  worse;  and  the 
child  had  ceased  to  struggle,  or  talk. 

Mose  knelt  outside  the  door,  his  old  gray  head  bowed  to  the 
floor,  as  he  softly  prayed  in  his  quaint,  superstitious  way,  for 
the  Death  Angel  to  pass  on  by.  The  doctor  sat  with  grave  face 
and  twitching  lips  where  he  could  watch  every  fluttering  breath 
of  his  patient.  The  heart-broken  father  bent  eagerly,  yet  de- 
spairingly over  the  sufferer,  moistening  the  dry  lips  and  whis- 
pering over  and  over: 

"Oh,  God!     Forgive  me  and  spare  my  boy!" 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  37 

Joe  squatted  by  the  bed  and  whined  piteously,  as  he  closely 
watched  his  little  master  and  occasionally  placed  his  forepaws 
on  the  bed  caressing  the  little  hot  hand  with  his  pink  tongue. 

Presently  the  doctor  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stepped  quickly 
to  the  bed,  and  placed  his  finger  on  the  child's  pulse. 

"Oh !  mah  honey  lam !  Don't  go !"  Aunt  Dilsie  wailed  out, 
slipping  to  her  knees,  and  old  Mose  fell  sobbing  into  the  room. 
A  groan  of  anguish  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  father,  for  the 
little  hands  began  to  flutter  and  the  lips  to  twitch  as  if  struggling 
for  breath  and  speech. 

"Hush — s — h!"  warned  the  doctor,  "I  think  the  crisis  has 
passed — he  is  better!" 

"joe — old — boy!"  came  a  faint  voice  from  the  pillow,  and 
the  father  lifted  the  dog  on  the  bed  and  placed  one  little  hand 
on  the  dog's  head,  as  he  stammered  through  sobs. 

"Thank  God!  oh,  thank  God!" 

"Papa ! — "and  the  blue  eyes  opened  and  for  a  moment  looked 
at  those  around  him  in  puzzled  surprise.  Then  putting  his  arm 
around  Joe's  neck,  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  dropped  into  a 
peaceful,  life-giving  sleep. 

"Yes — thank  God,  he  will  be  all  right  now!"  declared  the 
doctor,  joyously,  while  tears  of  thankfulness  rolled  down  the 
cheeks  of  Henry  LeGrande  and  the  two  faithful  servants. 

CHAPTER  V. 

"Jack  is  better!  He  will  live,  Flora!"  exclaimed  Henry 
LeGrande,  rushing  to  his  wife  with  the  good  news,  his  great 
strong  heart  melted  with  tenderness,  love  and  thankfulness 
for  God's  goodness,  a  feeling  that  for  the  moment  blotted  out 
all  else,  and  made  him  forget  the  bitterness  that  had  lately 
rankled  in  his  breast. 

"I  am  glad!  Oh,  so  glad,  Henry,  though  you  may  not  be- 
lieve me!"  and  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  burst 
into  tears.  The  man  remembered,  turned  pale  and  gazed  over 
her  head  and  out  of  the  window,  as  he  placed  one  arm  lightly 
around  her. 

"Henry!     I  love  you  now — for  yourself  alone. 

"I  confess  that  at  first  I  married  you  to  get  a  home  for 
myself  and  boy,  but  I've  learned  to  love  you — I  didn't  know  how 
much  until  you  grew  cold  toward  me." 


38  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"And  what  of  my  boy?  What  of  my  child  that  has  starved 
for  love  and  sympathy  while  we  both  forgot  his  very  existence? 
What  of  my  baby,  who  has  been  made  to  feel  himself  a  nuisance 
and  an  incumbrance  in  his  own  home;  who  has  been  jealous, 
and  rightly  so,  over  the  difference  made  between  him  and  your 
son?    God — !"  pushing  her  from  him  and  shuddering. 

"Henry,  am  I  alone  to  blame?  If  you  did  not  understand 
your  own  child,  how  could  I?  He  disliked  me  from  the  very 
first,  and  made  my  position  a  very  difficult  one.  I  tried  to  win 
him — you  know  I  did — and  you,  yourself,  finally  told  me  to 
let  him  alone,  and  I  did  so.  I'm  willing  to  bear  my  share  of 
the  blame,  but  don't  judge  me  too  harshly,  and  forget  your 
own  negligence,"  she  earnestly  pleaded.  "Henry,  forgive  me, 
and  help  me  to  be  all  that  you  thought  me.  I  love  you  and  I 
want  to  be  a  good  woman  and  a  true  wife  to  you." 

"What  about  that  letter?"  sadly.  "And  the  'old  man  who 
is  like  dough  in  your  hands?'  " 

"Henry,  I  don't  know  why  Dora  wrote  as  she  did,  and  I 
make  no  excuses  for  her  or  myself.  I  only  know  that  I  love  you, 
and  that  I've  never  known  how  much  until  now."  She  watched 
his  changing  countenance,  eagerly  waiting  for  the  psychological 
moment  when  he  would  yield. 

"Husband,  God  has  been  good,  and  let  us  keep  little  Jack. 
Can  you  afford  to  hold  bitterness  in  your  heart  toward  one  who 
is  deeply  repentant  and  pleads  earnestly  to  be  forgiven?  Oh! 
you  have  never  loved  me — or  you  could  not  be  so  cruel  to  me 
now — oh — Henry!"  and  she  turned  toward  the  door,  tears 
streaming  down  her  cheeks,  and  hands  pressed  over  her  heart. 

"Flora !"  she  paused,  and  leaned  against  the  door. 

"Wife!"  she  turned  and  with  a  joyful  cry  rushed  into  his 
outstretched  arms.  For  a  moment  neither  spoke.  Then  the 
man  stooped  and  kissed  the  woman's  tears  away  and  whispered : 

"We'll  let  by-gones  be  by-gones,  and  begin  anew!"  Later, 
when  alone  the  woman  found  herself  hard  to  understand. 

"I  wonder  if  I  really  do  care  for  him?"  she  mused.  "Any- 
how, I'm  glad  he  has  forgiven  me.  I  can't  bear  his  cold,  stern 
reproach.  I  believe  if  Jack  would  let  me,  I'd  try,  for  Henry's 
sake,  to  be  a  true  mother  to  him.  Anyhow,  I  must  be  sure  to 
manage  so  the  will  won't  be  changed.     If  Jack  had  gone  on  to 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  39 

his  sainted  mother,  all  my  troubles  would  have  been  over.  But — 
well — I'm  hard  to  beat  when  I  set  my  head!    We'll  see!" 

Jack  recovered  rapidly,  and  there  was  great  rejoicing  among 
the  blacks  on  the  plantation.  Joe  never  left  his  side,  and  Mis' 
Florence  allowed  him  free  run  of  the  house,  much  to  Jack's 
amazement.  Then,  too,  she  lavished  every  possible  attention  on 
the  little  fellow.  He  always  found  fresh  flowers  in  his  room, 
pretty  picture  books  on  his  table,  choice  delicacies  at  his  plate 
to  tempt  his  appetite  and  other  things  that  made  him  wonder, 
while  his  father's  face  took  on  a  happy,  peaceful  expression  that 
was  good  to  see. 

But,  there  was  a  sore  spot  in  Henry  LeGrande's  heart  that 
never  entirely  healed.  Faith  and  trust,  once  shaken  from  its 
foundation,  can  never  be  rebuilt  into  the  same  strong  and  beau- 
tiful structure,  and  there  were  times  when,  in  spite  of  himself, 
the  man  questioned  his  wife's  sincerity.  There  was  one  great 
question  ever  present  with  him.  Should  he  happen  to  die,  could 
he  safely  trust  his  child  to  the  guardianship  of  his  wife,  and 
feel  assured  that  he  would  get  a  square  deal?  He  could  never 
answer  that  question  satisfactorily,  and  he  writhed  under  the 
uncertainty. 

Jack  had  fully  recovered  when  the  terrible  thing  happened 
that  made  him  an  orphan,  indeed.  The  occurrence  was  toa  sad 
and  harrowing  to  dwell  upon,  and  we  will  hurry  over  it. 

It  was  early  in  June  when  Henry  LeGrande  was  killed  in 
a  run-away,  as  he  was  returning  from  Rockingham.  The  neigh- 
bors all  declared  that  they  never  had  witnessed  such  heart- 
rending grief  as  that  of  Jack,  when  the  mangled  form  of  his  dead 
father  was  brought  home  on  a  stretcher,  and  the  wife  seemed 
almost  bereft  of  reason.  She  p-athered  his  coat,  in  her  arms  and 
sobbed  over  it  unrestrainedly,  when  it  was  tenderly  taken  from 
the  body  by  kind  friends  who  had  hastily  gathered  in.  Later, 
when  she  was  persuaded  to  go  to  her  own  room  and  lie  down, 
she  still  clung  to  the  soiled  and  bloody  coat.  Those  good  men 
would  have  been  shocked  had  they  seen  with  what  eagerness  she 
went  through  the  pockets  when  left  alone. 

Henry  LeGrande  was  buried  by  the  side  of  his  wife — his 
first  love;  and  sorrowing  friends  turned  away  from  the  flower- 
covered  mound,  with  wonder  and  awe  in  their  hearts. 

The  incident  of  the  falling  portrait  had  been  aired  by  the 


40  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

superstitious  blacks,  and  these  simple  country  folks,  thoroughly 
believing  in  "signs,"  were  deeply  impressed. 

Arthur  had,  of  course,  come  home;  and,  as  the  sad  occur- 
rence was  only  a  few  days  before  commencement,  he  did  not 
return.  After  the  funeral  was  over  Mis'  Florence  sent  for  the 
family  lawyer,  and  had  him  bring  all  her  husband's  private 
papers. 

The  lawyer  came,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  few  neighbors 
and  all  the  plantation  negroes,  gave  Mose  a  deed  to  his  cabin 
and  the  twenty-five  acre  lot  back  of  it,  and  read  the  will. 

It  was  found  that  a  small  sum  had  been  placed  in  the  bank 
for  Jack  until  he  should  become  of  age.  Arthur,  too,  was  pro- 
vided for  in  the  same  way,  and  the  plantation  was  unreservedly 
given  "to  my  beloved  wife,  Florence  LeGrande,  who  is  to  have 
absolute  and  complete  possession,  and  full  control  of  all  my 
property,  and  the  guardianship  of  my  child,  Jack  A.  LeGrande, 
who  I  know  will  be  liberally  provided  for  at  her  hands." 

Jack,  after  one  wild  look  around  the  room,  slipped  to  the 
floor,  weeping  as  if  his  heart  would  break.  The  sullen  silence 
of  the  blacks  as  they  gazed  on  the  stricken  child,  showed  their 
indignation  plainer  than  words  could  have  done. 

There  were  no  relatives  interested  enough  to  come  forward 
and  fight  for  the  child's  right  and  though  there  was,  for  a  few 
days,  much  wonder  and  speculation,  the  neighbors  had  a  way 
of  "minding  their  own  business,"  and  were  all  soon  busy  "laying- 
by"  their  big  "bottom  corn,"  accepting  the  declaration  of  old 
Tom  Ingram,  that  "Henry  LeGrande  was  a  bigger  fool  than  we 
thought,  But,  I  recon'  he  had  the  right  to  do  with  his  own  just 
as  he  pleased!" 

"Papa  didn't  intend  it — I  know  he  didn't,"  cried  Jack  out 
in  Mose's  cabin.  "That  very  morning  when  he  went  to  Rock- 
ingham, he  said  to  me:  "Son,  I  feel  that  something  is  going  to 
happen  to  me — and  I  can't  rest  till  I  get  things  fixed  right!" 

"But  honey,  de  lawyer  say  he  wuz  outten  town  dat  day, 
and  so  Marse  neber  done  no  fixin,  more'n  he'd  already  done. 
Debbel  take  dat  'oman !     Hit's  all  her  doin's !" 

"Yah !  an  dey's  alreddy  puttin  on  airs !"  declared  Dilsie, 
stroking  Jack's  head.  "Dat  brat  Arthur  done  'gin  to  strut  wid 
importance,  an  him  an  Mis'   Florence  des  seem  lak  dey  ain't 


ON'iY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  41 

got  no  trubbles  at  all.  Honey  lam/  doan  you  cry.  Hit's  gwine 
ter  come  out  right  in  de  end." 

"Arthur  has  already  begun  to  pick  at  me  an'  Miss  Florence 
ain't  so  kind  as  she  was  before — before — oh!  Mammy,  why 
didn't  you  all  let  me  die?" 

"Lil  Marse — doan  cry  dat  way — please  doan !  It  des  erbout 
bus'  me  open — I  des  can't  stan'  it,  Lil'  Marse.  Mose  an'  Dilsie'll 
stick  to  you'  honey,  long  as  we  got  bref ,  an  de  good  Marster  up 
in  heven  an't  gwine  ter  let  no  orphin  suffer.  Hit  des  gotter 
cum  out  right,  honey,  kase  God  gwine  ter  unkiver  de  sins  o'  de 
wicked  what  bin  a  prosecutin'  His  lil  lam!" 

"Yah!  Glory  to  His  name!"  chanted  Aunt  Dilsie.  Mose 
looked  toward  her  a  little  uneasy.  More  than  once  she  had 
beaten  him  almost  to  death  while  shouting,  and  he  had  no  desire 
to  work  on  her  emotions  until  they  got  the  best  of  her,  so  he 
changed  the  subject.  Going  to  the  door  he  glanced  at  the  sun 
that  was  low  in  the  West: 

"Hoopee!  milkin'  time!  Come  on,  lil  Marse — I'se  des  got 
de  bestes  tale  to  tell  yo'  while  we  git  de  feed  mixed  fur  de 
cows!"  and  presently  Mose  and  Jack  were  in  the  barn,  and 
though  the  child's  face  was  pale  and  his  eyes  sad,  Uncle  Mose 
had  stopped  his  tears.  Both  were  busy  with  hoes,  stirring 
and  mxing  a  great  pile  of  cut  feed  for  the  cows,  when  Arthur 
came  in  smoking  a  cigarette. 

"Better  be  careful,  Arthur — you  might  drop  a  spark  and  set 
the  barn  afire,"  said  Jack. 

Arthur  leaned  against  the  door  facing  and  looked  at  Jack 
contemptuously. 

"Well,  if  I  should  burn  the  whole  darn  thing  up  it  wouldn't 
be  any  loss  to  you,  would  it?" 

"I  don't  know — it  might  be!"  returned  Jack,  stirring  the 
feed  more  vigorously. 

"Gee!  you're  not  such  a  fool  as  to  try  to  contest  the  will, 
I  hope?  Now  wouldn't  that  be  fun?"  taking  the  cigarette  from 
his  mouth  and  blowing  smoke  through  his  nose.  Then  he 
continued : 

"Mother  is  one  more  peach.  We  didn't  know  though  that 
the  falling  of  the  sainted  one's  portrait  would  mean  the  governor's 
death,"  musingly. 


42  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"You  cut  that  cord!"  hissed  Jack  between  clenched  teeth, 
his  blue  eyes  black  with  passion  and  his  face  chalky  white  as 
he  leaned  forward. 

"Boys,  boys!"  mildly  protested  Mose. 

"Ha!  ha!  Did  I?  Anything-  to  oblige  the  best  of  mothers, 
who — "  but  the  sentence  was  never  finishel.  With  one  quick 
and  powerful  stroke  of  the  sharp  hoe,  Jack  felled  him  to  the 
floor,  his  head  split  horribly  and  the  life  blood  gushing  forth  in 
torrents. 

"Oh,  my  Gawd!  Oh,  my  Gawd,  honey!  You  done  killed 
him!  Lawd  in  heben — oh;  honey  dey'll  hang  yo'  chile!  and  I 
promist  your  dyin'  Ma  I'd  take  keer  o'  you!"  wailed  old  Mose 
falling  to  his  knees. 

Jack  still  held  the  bloody  hoe  in  his  hands  and  looked  with 
horror-stricken  eyes  on  the  still  form  of  his  step-brother.  The 
blood  froze  in  his  veins  and  he  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  unable 
to  move. 

"Honey,  git  outten  here  an'  go  hide  in  de  cane  brake.  I'll 
come  to  you  atter  dark  an'  tell  yo'  what  to  do.  Git  out!  Fo' 
Gawd's  sake,  go !  Git  dar  on  de  sly — yo'  an'  Joe.  I'll  tend  to  dis — 
oh — chile,  go!"  and  Mose  laid  the  bloody  hoe  by  Arthur's  head 
as  Jack  with  a  groan  of  agony  slipped  through  the  back  door 
and  with  Joe  at  his  heels  ran  down  between  rows  of  rank  corn, 
to  the  river. 

The  sun  had  set  and  darkness  had  settled.  Jack  with  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands  sat  trembling  with  guilt  and  fear  in 
the  thick  cane  brakes,  and  Joe  tried  vainly  to  comfort  hirn. 

"Hi,  dar!"  came  a  muffled  voice. 

"Here  I  am,  Mose — me  and  Joe!  Is  he  dead?"  And  Jack 
ran  forward  in  the  darkness  and  fell  sobbing  at  the  old  man's 
feet.    "Oh,  don't  tell  me  he  is  dead  sure  enough!" 

"Honey,  de  doctah  hadn't  cum  yit  when  I  lef — but  doan  you 
worry,  he  had  a  little  pulse.  Mis'  Florence  des  ravin  lak  a 
'stracted  'oman  an'  a  scremin'  wid  ever  bref." 

"Oh !"  shuddered  the  boy.     "I  wish  I  was  dead!     Did 

you  tell  'em,  Mose?" 

"No,  honey!  No!  I  dashed  de  feed  to  de  cows,  den  went  to 
de  house  an  told  Mis'  Florence  dat  as  my  hand  wuz  so  sore  you 
wuz  gwine  ter  milk  fur  me,  an'  she  low  'well,  dat's  all  right.' 
Atter  little  while  she  cum  back  to  de  kitchen  an  she  say :  'Ain't 


• 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  43 

dat  triflin  boy  brung  de  milk  in  yit,'  an  I  say,  'No,  mam,  it  takes 
a  long  time  to  milk  dem  two  fine  cows.' 

"  'Bout  dat  time  de  han's  rive  from  de  field  an  directly  we 
hearn  'em  a  hollerin  out  at  de  barn.  Dat  cussed  niggah  Sam, 
come  a  rollin  an  tumblin  ober  heself  into  de  kitchen,  his  eyes  a 
bulgin  out  an  he  wuz  yellin:  'Gawd  a-mighty,  Mistes,  Marse 
Arfur  daid  in  de  barn — hes  hed  busted  wide  open!" 

"Den  we  all  went  runnin  to  de  barn,  an  dar  he  lay,  honey, 
des  lak  he  drapped.  Mis'  Florence  screamed  out  dat  you  wuz 
de  mudderer,  an  den  she  drapped  rat  across  de  body  an  died 
away  an  we  ha  to  tote  her  to  de  house.  Honey,  I  ain't  goin  to 
tell  nuffin.  Dey  cain't  make  me  witness  gin  you.  I'll  swear  to 
lies  'fore  I'll  say  you  done  it!  I  node  I  hatter  do  somethin, 
so  I  tole  'em  I'd  bring  de  neighbors,  an  I  run  atter  de  Ingrams 
an  de  Jacksonses.  Bud  Ingram  say  it's  a  wonder  you  hadn't 
done  it  long  ergo ! 

"Well,  den,  I  des  stood  aroun'  an'  waited  an'  listened  an' 
tried  to  ketch  on.  Marse  Tom  Ingram,  he  same  as  er  doctah, 
and  he  'low  maybe  it  ain't  bad  as  it  looks,  an'  he  pore  a  few 
draps  of  whiskey  in  Arthur's  mouth,  but  he  didn't  swaller. 
Honey,  de  sheriff'll  be  huntin  ye  tomorrow,  an'  you  mus'  get 
away  fum  here. 

"I'se  brung  yo'  coat  and  somethin'  to  eat,  and  honey,  roll 
down  yer  stockin."  Old  Mose  pushed  up  the  boy's  knee  pants, 
pulled  down  his  stocking  and  slipped  something  flat  down  inside. 

"Dar,  now!  Dat  won't  show,  an  nobody  won't  think  of 
robin  ye!"  he  said  fastening  the  stocking  back  up. 

"What  is  it,  Uncle  Mose?"  asked  Jack. 

"Des  a  lil  present  frum  me  and  Dilsie,  honey — you'll  find  it 
handy  in  yo'  trabels.  Be  keerful  wid  it."  Later  Jack  found  that 
the  present  was  two  five-dollar  bills. 

"Now,  honey,  I  des  hatter  put  you  an  Joe  in  a  boat  an' 
leave  yo'  in  de  hands  o'  de  Lawd!  De  dams  done  busted  out 
at  de  mill,  an  you  kin  go  er  long  ways  des  a  floatin.  You  kin 
float  all  night." 

"Oh,  Mose,  won't  I  ever  see  you  an  Mammy  Dilsie  any 
more?"  sobbed  Jack.  "I  don't  want  to  go  an  leave  you!  I'll 
go  back — I  don't  care  what  they  do  to  me!" 

"Honey  lam!  we's  gwine  ter  meet  sum  day  right  here 
on  dis  earf,  an  eberthing  gwine  ter  be  all  smoothed  over  by  de 


44  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

hand  o'  de  Lawd!  Dilsie  say  go  an'  Gawd  bless  yo'  hart — it 
all  gwine  ter  come  out  lak  de  good  Lawd  wants  it  to !" 

"But  it  can't  come  out  right !    I'm  a  murderer !"  wailed  Jack. 

"No  you  ain't !  No,  you  ain't — he  ain't  daid  honey !  don't  you 
believe  it !"  snorted  Mose  trying  to  encourage  the  boy.  "But  it's 
des  dis  way,  honey,  Miss  Florence  got  it  in  fo'  yo,  and  de 
bes'  thing  to  do  is  to  hit  de  grit."  After  much  persuasion, 
coaxing  and  threatening,  Jack  and  Joe  entered  a  light  boat  that 
Mose  had  hidden,  and  the  old  man  shoved  it  far  out  into  the 
stream  after  straining  boy  and  dog  to  his  faithful  if  erring 
heart,  in  a  tearful,  prayerful,  goodbye. 

But  Arthur  did  not  die!  He  was  soon  able  to  give  his 
mother  an  account  of  what  had  happened,  and  both  agreed  to 
do  nothing  whatever  with  Jack.  He  was  gone  and  that  was 
better.  A  trial  might  bring  investigations  and  complications. 
For  certain  reasons,  Mis'  Florence  wished  to  avoid  publicity  as 
much  as  possible. 

Mose  was  frantic.  He  had  sent  Jack  away  in  haste,  and 
had  made  no  plans  for  hearing  from  him.  The  child  might 
drown — but  no — he  could  swim  like  a  duck,  and  no  one  could 
harm  him,  with  Joe  as  a  bodyguard.  He  had  declared  from  the 
first  that  he  knew  nothing  about  Jack's  leaving,  and  now  he  must 
stick  to  it!  The  old  man  was  sore  beset,  and  Dilsie's  pillow 
was  nightly  wet  with  tears.    Where  was  her  "honey  lam !" 

The  neighbors,  too,  made  diligent  inquiry  concerning  the 
missing  lad.  Some  even  suggested  foul  play,  but  there  was  no 
evidence.  Joe  was  gone — so  was  the  boy — surely  they  were 
together. 

"I  don't  think  Jack  will  dare  to  come  back!  We  are  rid 
of  him  for  good  and  all,' I  believe.  I'm  tired  of  having  people 
call  to  make  inquiries  concerning  him,  and  we've  got  to  have 
some  news  to  give  them,  so  they'll  stop,"  said  the  widow  to  her 
son  as  she  dressed  his  head.  "It's  been  three  weeks,  now,  since 
he  left,  and  it's  time  we  were  getting  a  letter,"  she  smiled. 
"Well,  I'll  have  one  next  time  Bud  Ingram  comes  around !  He'll 
spread  the  news!" 

Arthur  looked  at  hs  mother  in  quick  comprehension  and  nod- 
ded: 

"I'll  swear!"  he  whispered.  "Mother,  you  do  beat  the  devil!" 

"Arthur!" 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  45 

"Well,  you  do !  You're  a  wonder !"  She  smiled  over  the  doubt- 
ful compliment,  then  took  a  letter  from  her  bosom,  and  laid  it  in 
his  hands.      He  read : 

Danville,  Va.. 
"Dear  Mother : 

"I  am  with  your  sister,  who  tells  me  that  dear  Arthur  is  not 
dead  after  all.  I  am  truly  thankful  and  beg  that  you  will  both 
forgive  the  rash  act  that  almost  wrecked  my  life. 

"I  don't  want  to  return  home,  though.  I  want  to  enter 
school  here  and  hope  you  will  make  all  necessary  arrangements. 
Aunt  Dora  says  I  may  stay  with  her,  and  I  know  I'll  love  her — 
she  is  so  like  you. 

"I'm  sorry  I  ran  away — I'm  sorry  for  everything."  Arthur 
laughed. 

"Pretty  good  far  as  it  goes,  mother,  but  you'd  better  put  in 
a  message  for  Mose  and  Dilsie,  to  make  it  ring  true." 

"Yes,  of  course !  Here,  let  me  add  a  few  more  lines !  How's 
this?"  and  she  read: 

"Tell  Mammy  Dilsie  and  Uncle  Mose  that  I  miss  them  just 
awful,  but  I'm  going  to  stay  away  and  get  an  education  and 
come  back  when  I  am  grown  and  take  care  of  them  in  their  old 
age. 

"Aunt  Dora  is  writing  for  me. 

"Jack. 

"That's  fine!"  declared  Arthur,  and  it  will  stop  people's 
tongues,  I  hope.'' 

"Yes,  and  as  soon  as  you  are  able  to  travel  we  are  going 
to  visit  dear  Jack,  and  get  him  fixed  in  school!"  she  answered. 

"You  seem  sure  that  he  won't  turn  up." 

"I  am  sure  that  he  will  not,"  she  answered. 

Bud  Ingram  called  that  same  evening  to  see  Arthur,  and  to 
inquire  about  Jack.  The  letter  was  read  to  him  with  much 
rejoicing  and  the  plans  for  "dear  little  Jack's  future"  were  dis- 
cussed at  length. 

"No  wonder  the  poor  child  ran  away,"  declared  his  step- 
mother. "He  thought  he  had  actually  killed  Arthur."  Bud 
didn't  say  he  thought  it  very  strange  that  Jack  should  go  to 
her  people  in  his  trouble,  but  he  thought  it. 


46  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

When  the  letter  was  read  to  Uncle  Mose  and  Aunt  Dilsie, 
the  two  old  servants  looked  at  each  other  in  consternation,  but 
said  not  a  word.    Later  Uncle  Mose  saw  Bud  Ingram  and  asked : 

"I  guess  you'se  studied  gejogfry  some,  ain't  yo' — dat  skule 
book  what  tells  whar  sich  an  sich  a  place  is?  Well,  is  dis  here 
Danville,  Virginy,  up  Norf  er  down  Souf?" 

"Up  North,"  answered  Bud.  Uncle  Mose  later  told  Aunt 
Dilsie  that: 

"Dat  letter  des  a  blankety  blank  lie — lil  Marse  went  down 
de  riber  to  de  Souf." 

Bud,  of  course,  told  every  one  that  Jack  had  been  heard 
from,  and  everything  turned  out  as  the  widow  planned. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

"Mister,  please  give  me  a  job  in  your  mill.'' 

The  superintendent  of  one  of  Georgia's  most  progressive 
mills  raised  his  head,  and  his  round,  genial  face  took  on  a  look 
of  surprise  and  interest.  Just  outside  the  open  window  under 
the  trellis  of  June  roses  which  shaded  it,  was  a  small  boy  in 
travel-stained  clothes  and  big  torn  straw  hat  and  by  his  side 
a  large  dog  with  forepaws  resting  on  the  window  sill.  The  man 
smiled. 

'Want  a  job  for  your  dog,  too?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir!"  came  the  eager  reply. 

"Well,  come  in,  and  we'll  talk  about  it,"  said  the  superln- 
dent;  and  boy  and  dog  went  round  to  the  door  and  entered. 
Mr.  Nixon  turned  in  his  revolving  chair,  and  motioned  the  boy 
to  a  seat  near  him,  while  he  took  a  very  close  look  at  his 
visitors. 

The  dusty  traveler  sank  wearily  into  the  padded  chair  but 
his  eyes  were  round  with  wonder  and  amazement  as  they  took 
in  the  magnificent  furnishing  of  the  office.  The  dog  squatted 
by  his  master's  side,  panting  with  the  heat. 

The  superintendent  saw  something  strangely  appealing  in 
the  slender  figure,  drooping  mouth  and  pathetic  blue  eyes.  He 
must  see  that  this  little  fellow  was  sent  back  to  his  mother, 
he  thought. 

"So  you  want  a  job.     Ever  work  in  a  mill?" 

"No,  sir — never  saw  in  one — but  I  can  learn." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  47 

"Where  are  you  from?     Don't  live  here,  do  you?" 

"Mister,  I  ain't  got  no  home,  nor  nobody  but  Joe." 

"Where  are  your  parents?" 

"Both  dead,"  and  the  lad's  lips  quivered. 

"There,  there!    What  is  your  name,  my  boy?"  very  kindly. 

"Jack  Armstrong-."  Armstrong  was  Jack's  middle  name 
and  something  prompted  him  to  use  it. 

"Jack,  you  have  run  away  from  some  one,  haven't  you? 
Tell  me  everything,  child,  just  as  if  I  were  your  fathei. 

The  boy's  heart  gave  a  thankful  bound.  He  felt  that  here 
was  a  good  true  friend.     Still  he  was  afraid. 

"Mister,  I  couldn't  get  along  with  my  stepmother  and — and 
— her  son/'  he  faltered. 

Ah,  I  see.  I  had  a  stepmother,  too,  Jack,  but  she  was  a 
good  woman  and  a  good  mother  to  me.  Are  you  sure  you  are 
not  to  blame?" 

"I  would  have  loved  her  if  I  could,  but  she  wasn't  good — she 
always  hated  me.  After  papa  died — I — I  was  just  in  the  way, 
so  me  an'  Joe  left.    Please  let  me  work." 

John  Baxter,  who  kept  the  mill  boarding  house  and  ran  the 
"Company  farm,"  had  come  in  quietly  and  was  listening  with 
interest  to  the  conversation. 

"You  are  too  small  to  work.  You  ought  to  be  in  school," 
continued  Mr.  Nixon.     Jack's  lips  quivered  piteously. 

•  "Please,  sir,  I'm  fourteen,  and  I  must  have  work.  I  met 
a  boy  down  the  road,  and  we  got  to  talk  in'  an'  he  said  he  knew 
you  would  give  me  a  chance.  Mister,  we  ain't  had  a  thing  to 
eat  today,"  and  Jack  gulped  down  a  sob. 

"Good  heavens!  Child,  you  are  hungry!"  and  the  superin- 
tendent grabbed  a  telephone  from  his  desk. 

"Hello!  Give  me  Jones'  Restaurant.  That  you  Jones? 
Yes?  Well,  send  a  dandy  good  lunch  to  my  office  at  once — 
plenty  for  a  small  hungry  boy  and  a  big  dog.    Hurry,  please." 

Jack's  eyes  became  round  with  wonder  as  he  gazed  on  this 
amazing  bit  of  performance.  He  had  never  before  seen  a  tele- 
phone. A  thousand  questions  surged  tc  his  lips,  but  he  held 
them  in  check  and  waited. 

In  a  very  short  time  a  colored  boy  wearing  an  immaculate 
suit  of  white  duck  and  cap  to  match,  conspicuously  labeled 
"Jones'  Restaurant,"  hurried  in  with  a  large  covered  waiter 


48  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

which  he  politely  handed  to  Mr.  Nixon,  who  took  it  and  dis- 
missed him.  Then  placing  the  waiter  on  his  desk,  he  lifted 
the  snowy  cloth  and  said : 

"Here  you  are  Jack!  Nice  juicy  ham,  eggs,  muffins,  rolls, 
potato  salad,  milk  and  peach  pie — and  lots  of  it.  Now,  you  and 
Joe  sail  in."    Jack  rose  eagerly. 

"Thank  you,  sir.    You  sure  are  good,"  he  said. 

A  big  newspaper  was  spread  on  the  carpet,  on  which  was 
placed  a  generous  meal  for  Joe,  the  dog  waiting  patiently  and 
politely  until  told  to  eat.  In  the  meantime  the  superintendent 
and  Mr.  Baxter  were  holding  a  consultation  in  the  bookkeeper's 
office. 

"There's  something  about  the  boy  that  makes  me  want  to 
trust  him  and  ask  no  questions,"  said  Mr.  Nixon.  "He  doesn't 
look  as  if  he's  had  a  square  deal." 

"Strikes  me  the  same  way,"  declared  Baxter.  "But  he's 
so  little  to  be  tryin'  to  'paddle  his  own  canoe."  Baxter  had  no 
idea  that  the  boy  had  been  "paddling  a  canoe!" 

"That  was  the  best  meal  me  an'  Joe  ever  had,  I  guess,  an' 
we  thank  you."  Turning  to  Joe  he  said:  "Thank  the  gentle- 
man, Joe,"  and  the  dog  immediately  stood  on  his  hind  legs, 
nodded  his  head  vigorously  and  yelped. 

"Nice  dog,"  smiled  Mr.  Nixon. 

"But  you  ain't  said  I  could  work,"  appealed  Jack. 

"Child,  you  can't  make  enough  in  the  mill  to  support  your- 
self aim  dog.  You  ought  not  to  have  brought  him.  Perhaps 
you  can  sell  him."    Jack  looked  frightened : 

"Sell  Joe!  Oh,  no  sir.  He's  all  I  got  in  the  world,  now. 
I'll  work  night  and  day  for  his  keep."  Then  turning  to  the  dog 
who  sat  and  listened  with  an  intelligent  expression  in  his  big 
brown  eyes : 

"Joe,  what  would  you  do  without  me?"  Instantly  the  dog 
fell  as  if  shot,  groaned  and  stretched  out  stiff  as  if  dead,  while 
the  surprised  superintendent  and  Mr.  Baxter  looked  on  with 
interest. 

"That's  all  right,  Joe,  we'll  stay  together,"  and  the  dog 
sprang  up  wagging  his  tail  joyously. 

"Now  pray  that  we  shan't  ever  be  parted,"  commanded 
Jack,  and  Joe  went  to  a  chair,  squatted  before  it,  put  his  paws 
together,  bowed  his  head  on  them,  groaned  and  whined  in  such  a 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  49 

heart-rending  way  that  Mr.  Nixon,  caught  himself  swallowing 
a  lump  in  his  throat. 

"Well,  I'll  swigger!"  exclaimed  Baxter. 

"Beats  anything  I  ever  saw.  Don't  blame  you  Jack — he's 
worth  his  weight  in  gold,"  declared  Mr.  Nixon.  "But  what's 
to  be  done?    I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"Say!"  said  Baxter.  "You  give  the  boy  a  job  an'  I'll  keep 
him  an'  his  dog  if  he'll  help  me  nights  and  mornings  around 
the  barn.  I  like  the  kid  an'  I  like  his  dog.  I  believe  they  will 
both  make  good." 

Jack  listened  eagerly  for  the  superintendent's  reply. 

"No  doubt  he  would  be  quite  a  help  to  you  after  he  gets 
stronger,"  mused  Mr.  Nixon.  "We'll  take  him  on,  then.  It's 
about  stopping  time  now,"  looking  at  his  watch.  "He  can  come 
back  in  the  morning  and  I'll  see  what  can  be  done  for  him.  In 
the  meantime  we  must  watch  the  papers  and  see  if  he  is  adver- 
tised." 

As  Jack  trudged  along  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Baxter,  he  thought 
he  had  never  seen  a  rougher,  uglier  man.  He  wore  a  dirty  suit 
of  overalls,  just  like  the  farmers  at  home  wore.  His  stumpy 
beard  of  three  week's  growth  was  streaked  with  gray,  and  his 
nose  was  entirely  too  large.  His  hands  were  rough  and  knotty, 
ins  shoulders  were  very  stooped  and  his  legs  were  badly  warped. 
His  only  redeeming  feature  was  a  pair  of  the  kindest  gray  eyes 
that  looked  with  charity  and  sympathy  on  the  whole  world. 

Just  then  the  6  o'clock  whistle  blew  and  Jack  gazed  on  the 
stream  of  workers  that  poured  from  the  mill  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  a  sight  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  which  interested 
him  greatly.  The  sun  was  still  high  in  the  heaven,  and  from 
Baxter  Heights,  as  the  boarding  house  was  called,  a  picture  of 
the  whole  village  was  plainly  seen.  Baxter  pointed  out  the 
"Super's"  house,  the  two  nice  churches,  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  hall, 
the  big  graded  school  house  and  other  points  of  interest.     The 

town  of  A was  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  and  could 

be  reached  by  electric  car  line. 

The  big  boarding  house,  full  to  overflowing,  almost  frighten- 
ed our  timid  Jack.  Tired,  fussy  and  fat,  Mrs.  Baxter  almost 
finished  him  when  she  declared  she  had  no  place  for  the  "little 
tramp"  and  she  certainly  was  not  going  to  have  that  "villainous 
looking  dog  around."     Jack's  heart  quaked  with  fear  and  he 


JACK  AND  JOE 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  51 

shrank  behind  Mr.  Baxter  who  whispered  reassuringly,  and  gave 
him  an  affectionate  slap  on  the  shoulder: 

"Never  mind,  son, — her  bark's  worse'n  her  bite.  She'll  soon 
be  the  best  friend  you  an'  Joe's  got.  She  has  so  much  to  do  that 
her  temper  is  kinder  frazzled  sometimes,  but  she's  the  best 
woman  in  the  world,"  and  the  little  man  motioned  for  Jack  to 
follow  him  to  the  barn. 

When  they  reached  the  big  barn  in  which  was  housed  the 
company  stock  and  feed,  Baxter  suddenly  had  an  inspiration  and 
said" 

"Jack,  if  you  ain't  afraid,  an'  being  as  it's  warm  weather, 
we  might  arrange  for  you  to  sleep  here  in  the  barn  till  we  get 
some  room  in  the  house.  Emily  says  she  ain't  got  a  inch  of 
room  nowhere.  I  didn't  know  that  when  I  said  I'd  take  you,'' 
apologized  the  man. 

"I  ain't  afraid  nowhere  with  Joe,  and  I'd  a  sight  rather  stay 
out  here,"  declared  Jack,  shuddering  over  the  thought  of  Mrs. 
Baxter's  sharp  tongue. 

Baxter  consulted  with  his  fifteen-year-old  daughter,  Nellie, 
who  was  in  the  barn  looking  for  eggs,  and  she  soon  agreed  with 
him  that  the  little  harness  room  in  one  corner  of  the  barn  could 
be  easily  converted  into  quite  a  respectable  bed-room.  All  went 
to  work  with  a  will,  and  the  room  was  soon  cleared  out.  The 
racks  were  transferred  to  one  side  of  the  barn  and  the  gear 
and  harness  hung  thereon. 

A  discarded  single  bed  that  had  been  packed  in  the  wood- 
shed was  put  up,  and  well  furnished  from  the  house.  A  dry 
goods  box  was  converted  into  a  wash  stand  with  white  oilcloth 
cover,  and  on  this  was  placed  a  covered  galvanized  waterbucket, 
wash  pan  and  dipper.  Over  it  was  hung  a  cracked  looking  glass 
and  a  little  case  holding  comb  and  brush. 

Mr.  Baxter  was  happy  as  a  boy  as  he  emerged  again  from 
the  wood-house  with  a  small  table,  stool  and  a  chair.  Then 
standing  at  the  door  with  his  warped  legs  very  far  apart  and 
hands  thrust  deep  into  his  pockets,  he  surveyed  the  little  room. 

"Seems  like  somethin's  lackin'  yet,"  he  mused. 
"Yes.     Soap  and  towels,"   said  Nellie. 
"That's  it!     Go  and  get  'em,  girlie."    Nellie  ran  out  to  do 
his  bidding,  and  Baxter  exclaimed : 

"Say,  Jack,  some  of  these  days  when  I  get  a  chance,  I'll 


52  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

mend  up  your  furniture  and  give  it  a  coat  of  paint."    And  the 
boy  smiled  delightedly. 

At  the  foot  of  the  bed  a  mat  was  placed  for  Joe  which 
pleased  Jack  as  much  as  his  own  bed  did. 

When  Nellie  returned  with  the  soap  and  towels,  she  also 
brought  a  little  Waterbury  alarm  clock.  After  showing  Jack 
how  to  wind  and  set  it,  she  hung  it  on  the  wall,  saying : 

"Jack,  I  like  you  and  Joe,  and  I  want  you  to  get  on  the 
good  side  of  mother;  and  you  can  do  it  if  you'll  try.  She  has 
lots  to  do.  Our  cook  doesn't  sleep  here,  and  mother  always 
rises  at  4:30  and  makes  a  fire  in  the  range  ready  for  her. 
Perhaps  you  can  do  that — and  draw  some  fresh  water  before 
breakfast.'' 

"Oh,  yes,  Miss  Nellie,  I'll  be  glad  to  do  that,  Tell  vour 
mother  she  needn't  get  up — I'll  have  the  fire  ready — only  you 
must  show  me  how  to  get  in,  and  where  to  find  things,"  replied 
Jack,  happy  over  the  thought  that  perhaps  he  really  could  earn 
his  keep,  and  Joe's,  if  he  worked  hard. 

"Is  there  a  place  anywhere  close  where  I  can  go  in  bath- 
in'?"  asked  Jack  as  he  thought  with  a  pang  at  his  heart  of 
the  beautiful  Pee  Dee,  where  he  and  Joe  had  so  often  gone 
swimming. 

"Why,  yes,  there's  a  rfice  swimmin'  pool  down  the  creek, 
a  piece — an'  we've  got  a  bath  room  at  the  house  which  you  can 
use,"  replied  Mr.  Baxter.  "If  you  jest  want  to  bathe  your  feet 
why  go  out  here  to  the  hoss-trough." 

Jack  was  shown  how  to  get  into  the  kitchen  and  where 
wood  and  kindling  were  kept.  He  was  urged  to  eat  supper,  but 
he  had  eaten  so  heartily  in  the  superintendent's  office,  that  he 
didn't  care  for  any  and  seeing  that  his  master  would  not  eat, 
neither  would  Joe. 

Jack  went  to  bed  early.  Joe's  mat  was  changed  from  the 
foot  of  the  bed  to  the  side,  so  that  Jack  could  lie  with  his  hand 
on  the  dog's  head.  The  munching  of  the  horses  as  they  ate 
the  corn  was  sweet  and  restful  music  to  our  tired  lad,  who  tried 
to  review  the  events  of  the  past  few  days.  The  sad  death  of 
his  father,  was  the  most  vivid  picture  in  the  child's  mind.  That 
he  had  murdered  his  step-brother,  seemed  like  some  horrible 
dream.  He  tried  to  brand  himself  a  murderer.  He  tried  to 
imagine  the  grief  and  despair  of  his  step-mother  as  she  viewd 
the  lifeless  form  of  her  boy,  bathed  in  blood  from  the  terrible 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  53 

gash  on  his  head.  But  it  seemed  as  if  God  had  in  some  way 
numbed  his  sensibilities  to  such  an  extent  that  he  escaped  the 
horror  and  despair  that  might  have  run  him  mad. 

The  thought  of  Mose  and  Dilsie  in  their  lonely  hut,  brought 
the  tears  to  his  eyes.  Would  he  ever  see  them  again?  How 
would  he  ever  have  lived  to  reach  this  place  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  present  Mose  slipped  into  his  stocking?  Traveling  and 
lunches  had  taken  it  all,  and  he  had  tried  so  hard  to  be  saving. 

Jack  had  abandoned  his  boat  at  Cheraw,  S.  C,  after  travel- 
ing all  night,  and  had  walked  and  walked,  neither  knowing  or 
caring  where  he  was  going,  just  so  he  escaped  the  wrath  of  his 
step-mother,  and  the  consequences  of  his  rash,  mad  act.  Very 
often  a  wagoner  would  ask  him  to  ride,  and  he  always  accepted 
if  he  could  arrange  for  Joe  to  ride,  and  refused  promptly  if 
arrangements  could  not  be  made.  At  Columbia,  he  met  with  a 
boy  older  than  himself — a  regular  little  tramp — who  was  intend- 
ing to  "beat  a  train"  to  Augusta  that  night  and  tried  to  persuade 
Jack  to  accommapy  him. 

"I'd  love  to  beat  a  train  goin'  somewhere,"  said  Jack,  "but 
I  don't  see  how  it  can  be  done.  Me  an'  Joe  has  come  a  long 
way  an'  traveled  mitey  fast,  but  any  train  could  beat  us." 

"Aw  go  way,"  laughed  the  other  boy.  "Don't  be  so  fresh 
an'  green — the  cows  and  geese  will  eat  you  shore.  Don't  you 
know  how  to  beat  a  train?  I  don't  mean  beat  it  a  gettin'  there, 
but  beat  the  road  outen  fare — ride  on  the  sly,  without  a  ticket." 
Jack's  eyes  narrowed  down  to  mere  slits,  as  he  voiced  his  dis- 
approval : 

"Me  an'  Joe  don't  do  things  that  way.  We'll  be  straight, 
no  difference  what  it  costs.    We'll  walk  when  we  can't  pay." 

As  Jack  lay  in  his  bed  and  reviewed  the  past  two  weeks,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  it  had  been  months  since  he  left  home.  He 
wondered  what  he  was  going  to  do  for  clothes,  and  a  choking 
sense  of  dread  crept  into  his  heart  as  he  thought  of  going  into 
the  big  mill  with  its  awful  noise,  and  among  so  many  strangers. 

Jack,  though  tired,  was  restless,  and  for  a  long  time  lay 
and  gazed  at  the  round  faced  moon  that  looked  in  at  the  open 
window,  while  the  soft  June  zephyrs,  fragrant  with  an  odor 
of  roses  that  brought  memories  of  home,  rushed  in  and  kissed 
his  brow.  He  finally  thought  that  perhaps  he  had  not  set  his 
clock  to  alarm  properly  and  got  up  to  see.     The  light  of  the 


54  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

moon  proved  his  fears  groundless  and  he  lay  down  again  and 
soon  fell  asleep. 

Mrs.  Baxter  in  her  night  gown  and  bed-room  slippers, 
peeped  into  the  stove  room  next  morning  at  4:30  and  drew  a 
deep  breath  of  satisfaction  as  she  saw  that  the  fire  was  already 
made  in  the  big  range  and  the  kettle  and  buckets  filled  with 
water. 

She  sleepily  made  her  way  back  to  her  bed,  dropping  down 
by  the  side  of  her  husband,  wondering  in  a  bewildered  way  who 
this  little  tramp  lad  could  be.  Nudging  her  companion  with  her 
elbow  she  plied  him  with  questions  and  soon  learned  all  that 
Baxter  knew  about  the  boy. 

"So  he's  a  orphan !  Don't  look  like  he's  had  half  enough  to 
eat — poor  little  chap!  Well,  I'll  see  that  he  gets  all  the  good 
juicy  steak,  eggs  an  milk  that  he  can  hide  under  his  shirt,  an' 
if  he  don't  perk  up  under  it,  I'll  know  there's  somethin'  turrible 
ailin  him."    Baxter  was  delighted  and  he  ventured : 

"Mother,  the  little  feller's  goin'  to  work  this  mornin'  an' 
he's  mitey  dirty.  I  expect  some  of  them  boys  will  be  pickin' 
at  him  an'  axin  if  his  washwoman  didn't  bring  his  clothes  home. 
You  know  there's  a  mighty  clean  an'  pertickler  set  of  help  here." 
Mrs.  Baxter  bounced  out  of  bed  and  left  the  room.  Presently, 
still  in  her  night  gown,  she  returned  with  a  bundle. 

"Get  right  up  from  there,  John  Baxter  and  take  these  things 
to  that  child.  Ned's  outgrowed  'em  but  they're  good  and  clean. 
That  orphan  ain't  goin'  dirty  from  my  house."  Baxter's  gray 
eyes  beamed  lovingly  on  his  robust  spouse,  and  he  hurriedly 
pulled  on  his  trousers,  glad  to  do  her  bidding,  and  prove  to  the 
boy  that  he  had  told  the  truth  when  declaring  that  his  wife 
was  "the  best  woman  in  the  world." 

When  Baxter  went  to  the  barn  he  found  that  the  horses  had 
all  been  fed  and  Jack  was  in  the  stall  rubbing  the  glossy  sides 
of  "Midnight,"  a  nervous  and  fiery  mare  colt,  that  was  just 
being  broken  to  harness. 

"Come  outten  there,  lad;  come  out!"  he  cried,  in  fear  for 
the  child's  life.     "She'll  kill  you.     She's  a  young  devil!" 

"Why,  she's  a  lovin'  beauty,"  declared  Jack,  winding  his 
arms  about  the  colt's  neck,  and  patting  her  confidently.  To 
Baxter's  amazement,  the  colt  made  no  objection,  and  even  left 
her  food  and  followed  Jack  wistfully,  as  he  went  to  the  other  end 
of  the  trough,  climbed  over  it  and  into  the  barn. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  55 

"Well,  I'll  swigger!  Jack,  air  you  a  wizzard?  How  did 
you  win  her?"  asked  Baxter. 

"I  just  loved  her  and  trusted  her — that's  all,"  replied  Jack, 
smilingly,  as  he  stopped  to  pat  Joe  and  to  assure  him  that  he 
had  no  cause  for  jealousy.  Baxter  unrolled  his  bundle,  grinning 
triumphantly : 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  the  old  'oman  would  be  your  best  friend? 
Now  jest  look  what  she's  sent  ye.  Some  overalls,  clean  stockings, 
a  shirt — an — bless  Patty!  a  tie,"  he  gasped,  as  he  saw  one  of 
his  own  washties  unfold  to  his  sight.  "An,  yes,  here's  a  night 
shirt,  too,"  and  Baxter  spread  the  garments  on  the  bed.  Jack's 
eyes  filled  with  tears : 

"I  was  wishin'  I  had  some  clean  clothes,  but  I  didn't  think 
I'd  get  'em,"  he  stammered  gratefully.  "Please  tell  Mrs.  Baxter 
that  I  thank  her  a  thousand  times,  an'  if  I  live  I'll  do  something 
for  her  some  day.  I  won't  ever  forget  this.  An — an — Mr. 
Baxter,  won't  you  go  with  me  in  the  mill  this  mornin'  an — 
sorter  start  me  off  right?"  begged  Jack,  catching  the  man's  hand 
in  his  eagerness. 

Why,  I  sure  will,  my  boy.  Now,  you  hurry  into  these  togs. 
Don't  wear  nothin  under  your  shirt  an  overalls,  cause  it's  hot 
in  the  mill,  an  you'll  have  to  dress  light  or  you  can't  stand  it, 
goin'  in  at  the  hot  season  this  way.  When  you  git  ready,  let's 
go  to  breakfast,  so  we'll  be  at  the  mill  on  time.  They  ain't  nothin' 
like  bein'  on  time,  my  boy.  Punctuility  ort  to  be  everybody's 
motto.  Punctility,  an'  a  determination  to  do  your  work  jest  a 
little  better  than  anybody  alse  ever  did,  will  make  a  feller  go  to 
top  rail  ever  time,"  declared  Baxter,  as  he  waited  for  Jack  to 
change  clothes. 

"Why,  they  are  just  right!"  exclaimed  Jack,  proudly,  as  he 
donned  the  overalls.  "But  must  I  wear  this?"  and  he  held  up 
the  tie,  half  doubtfully  and  a  little  wistfully. 

"Sure!  the  old  'oman  will  expect  it.  Somehow  a  tie  allers 
gives  a  feller  a  kind  of  unapproachable,  hands-off  look,  an  is  a 
mitey  nice  finish  to  an  overall  suit,"  returned  Baxter,  stepping 
forward  and  showing  the  boy  how  to  tie  it  on. 

"I  can  do  that.    It's  tied  like  a  hamestring,"  laughed  Jack. 

The  big  dining  room  table  was  full  of  boarders  and  Jack 
was  glad  that  he  was  to  have  his  meals  with  the  family  in  the 
kitchen.     Mrs.  Baxter,  though  busy  helping  the  cook  to  "wait 


56  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

on"  the  boarders,  took  time  to  pile  Jack's  plate  with  choice  food, 
and  was  pleased  to  see  that  he  ate  heartily. 

"Thank  you  for  those  clean  clothes,"  he  had  whispered 
timidly,  as  she  paused  by  his  chair;  but  she  hurried  away  with- 
out answering,  to  look  after  another's  wants,  leaving  our  boy 
a  little  uncomfortable.  He  learned  later,  that  some  of  the  best 
and  truest  hearts  that  ever  beat,  are  hidden  beneath  rough  ex- 
teriors and  indifferent  manners. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Jack's  heart  throbbed  wildly  as  he  and  Baxter  climbed  the 
stairs  to  the  spinning  room;  he  gazed  with  mingled  awe  and 
dread,  half  frightened  and  half  fascinated  by  the  noisy,  laugh- 
ing, joking  crowd,  as  each  hurried  to  his  or  her  place  in  the  mill. 

Superintendent  Nixon,  and  Mr.  Jones,  the  spinning  room 
overseer,  were  standing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  the  big  alley. 

"On  time,  I  see,"  smiled  the  superintendent,  patting  Jack's 
shoulder.  "Mr.  Jones  will  give  you  a  job,"  he  said,  then  left 
the  room. 

Jack  looked  at  his  "boss,"  who  turned  and  motioned  to  a 
boy  who  was  passing. 

"Steve,  take  this  boy  and  teach  him  to  doff."  The  boy 
nodded  assent,  looked  Jack  over  and  grinned,  then  passed  on. 
Baxter  gave  Jack  a  gentle  push  and  he  followed.  When  they 
had  gone  a  few  steps  the  overseer  called : 

"Come  here  a  minute,  Steve,"  and  Jack  paused,  as  the  boy 
retraced  his  steps      Mr.  Jones  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"Look  here  now,  Steve,  the  new  boy,  Jack  Armstrong,  is  an 
orphan,  and  I  want  you  to  look  out  for  him  and  see  that  no  one 
mistreats  him.  I'm  going  to  depend  on  you  to  see  him  through. 
You  may  tell  the  others  that  any  one  who  doesn't  treat  him  with 
consideration,  will  be  discharged.  That's  all,"  as  the  boy  stared 
at  him. 

Steve  was  the  greatest  tease  in  the  mill  and  was.  generally 
called  the  "meanest,"  but  Mr.  Jones  had  great  tact,  and  knew 
exactly  how  to  handle  him  in  this  instance.  The  lad  walked 
back  feeling  several  inches  taller.  He  was  a  little  amazed  and 
chagrined  to  find  that  they  would  not  be  allowed  to  initiate  the 
new  boy,  a  ceremony  religiously  performed  for  the  benefit  of 
every   "green-horn,"   and   heretofore   always   enjoyed   by   even 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  57 

the  "boss."  But  then,  this  "kid"  was  an  orphan,  and  he,  Steve 
Laney,  was  elected  his  guardian.  Well,  he'd  show  Mr.  Jones 
that  he  was  equal  to  the  task  set  for  him,  and  he'd  "just  knock 
the  stuffin  out  of  any  boy  that  bothered  the  kid !" 

Joe  could  not  understand  at  first  why  he  must  be  left,  but 
finally  became  reconciled.  He  would  go  with  Jack  to  the  mill 
door,  morning  and  noon,  and  soon  learning  the  "stopping  time" 
whistle,  would  dash  for  the  mill  door,  reaching  it  first  and  wait- 
ing for  the  lad.  Anxious  that  his  pet  should  be  appreciated, 
Jack  often  had  him  perform  on  the  mill  lawn  during  the  noon 
hour,  and  smiled  delightedly  over  the  applause  he  received. 

While  his  master  was  in  the  mill,  Joe  took  charge  of  the 
younger  Baxter  children,  and  it  was  amusing  to  see  how  hard 
he  tried  to  keep  the  two-year-old  off  the  streets  and  out  of 
danger.  He  learned  to  open  and  shut  the  yard  gate,  and  would 
go  to  the  postoffice  and  mail  letters  that  had  been  carefully 
wrapped  to  keep  them  clean.  He  would  stand  on  his  hind  legs 
and  bark  in  at  the  general  delivery  window,  asking  for  mail.  If 
there  happened  to  be  none,  the  postmaster  would  give  him  an 
uncalled  for  paper,  for  Joe  refused  to  leave  "empty-handed." 

Mrs.  Baxter  would  often  send  Joe  with  an  order  to  the 
market  and  he  always  returned  promptly  with  a  basket  of  meats, 
getting  a  generous  slice  as  a  reward. 

Jack  got  along  nicely  in  the  mill.  He  had  gone  in  deter- 
mined to  work  so  well  that  Mr.  Nixon  would  never  regret  giving 
him  a  chance.  He  was  anxious  to  please  and  watched  the  other 
boys  closely,  trying  every  day  to  improve. 

He  never  failed  to  have  the  fire  in  the  range  at  4:30  a.  m. 
Mrs.  Baxter  soon  learned  that  she  could  depend  upon  him,  and 
was  greatly  benefited  by  the  extra  hour  of  sleep  she  enjoyed. 
Meantime,  Jack  improved  wonderfully.  His  work  gave  him  a 
good  appetite  and  Mrs.  Baxter,  understanding  the  need  of  a 
growing  boy,  took  especial  pains  in  a  quiet  matter  of  fact  way, 
to  furnish  him  all  the  good,  nourishing  food  needed  to  develop 
body,  brain  and  muscle.  In  fact,  she  looked  after  the  lad  so 
thoughtfully,  that  her  own  sixteen-year-old  son,  Ned,  jealously 
remonstrated,  and  to  his  everlasting  surprise,  got  spanked  for 
his  pains. 

On  the  20th  of  December,  just  six  month's  after  Jack's 
arrival,  Superintendent  Nixon  walked  across  the  mill  lawn  to 
speak  to  his  doffer  boys.    It  was  still  lovely  weather  and  the 


58  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

boys  were  playing  leap-frog,  standing  on  their  heads  and  doing 
other  stunts  between  doffs.  Noticing  that  one  boy  took  no  part 
in  their  games,  Mr.  Nixon,  much  interested,  walked  over  to 
where  the  lad  sat  upon  a  rustic  seat,  his  head  bent  over  a  book, 
and  so  absorbed  that  he  did  not  notice  the  man's  approach.  The 
boy  was  Jack,  and  the  book  was  a  second-grade  reader: 

"Good  for  you,  my  boy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Nixon.  "That's 
right.  Improve  every  golden  minute.  Your  overseer  tells  me 
that  you  are  best  doffer  in  the  mill,  and  Baxter  says  he  couldn't 
get  along  without  you  and  Joe.  I  haven't  seen  or  heard  of  any 
inquiry  for  you,  so  I'm  rather  glad  I  gave  you  a  chance." 

Jack  looked  up  with  shining  eyes: 

"I'm  glad  Mr.  Jones  is  pleased.  I've  tried  to  do  my  best. 
I'm  studying  all  I  can,  too,  and  saving  my  money  to  go  to  school 
later." 

"How  much  have  you  saved  on  50  cents  a  day?"  smiled  the 
superintendent. 

"All  I've  made  except  some  I  had  to  spend  for  books  and 
a  Sunday  suit,  hat,  shoes  and  underwear,  so  I  could  go  to  Sunday 
school — and  some  Sunday  school  money." 

"How  much  time  have  you  lost?" 

"Not  a  single  day,"  very  proudly. 

"And  you  study  while  the  others  play?" 

"Well,  you  see,  I  can't  study  at  night,  since  the  days  are  so 
short,  'cause  I  can't  have  a  light  in  the  barn.  Mr.  Baxter  is 
afraid  of  fire,"  replied  Jack. 

"Are  you  still  in  the  barn?  Why  don't  you  stay  in  the 
house?" 

"Mrs.  Baxter  needs  all  her  rooms  for  boarders  and  I  like 
it  at  the  barn  with  Joe.  I  couldn't  leave  him  alone — and  couldn't 
take  him  in  the  house.    But  I  do  wish  we  could  have  a  light." 

"Why  don't  you  quit  work  after  Christmas  and  go  to  school? 
It  won't  cost  you  a  cent  and  you  can  still  work  for  Baxter  for 
your  board." 

"I'd  rather  work  and  make  money.  Besides  Mr.  Baxter  and 
Nellie  say  I  am  learning  faster  than  any  of  the  boys  in  school." 

"Well,  well,  well!"  said  the  superintendent  in  amazement. 
"Jack  what  do  you  do  with  your  money?  I  mean  where  do 
you  keep  it?" 

"Mrs.  Baxter  keeps  it  for  me." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  59 

"Better  deposit  it  in  the  bank,  my  boy — or,  you  can  put  it 
in  the  office  and  draw  interest  on  it,"  suggested  Mr.  Nixon. 

"I  didn't  know  I  could  do  that,"  replied  Jack.  "May  I  bring 
it  tomorrow?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course  you  may,  my  boy,"  and  Mr.  Nixon  smiled  into 
the  boy's  eager  upturned  face.  "I'm  glad  to  know  that  you  are 
starting  a  bank  account.  There's  nothing  like  saving  systemat- 
ically; even  if  it's  just  a  small  sum  every  week,  it  grows  rapidly 
and  makes  one  independent." 

Jack  kept  out  a  little  of  his  money  for  Christmas,  but  next 
morning  after  first  doff,  he  went  into  the  superintendent's  office 
and  proudly  laid  $50.00  on  the  desk.  Presently,  he  returned 
to  his  work,  leaving  his  money  behind,  and  in  his  overall  pocket 
neatly  wrapped  to  keep  it  clean,  he  carried  a  "bank  book." 

"Mr.  Jones  wants  you  in  his  office,"  said  Steve  Laney. 
"Guess  he's  goin'  to  raise  you  about  somethin'.  What's  you 
been  doin'?  Somethin'  always  happens  when  a  feller  is  called 
to  the  office." 

Jack  gasped.  A  frightened  look  came  into  his  eyes.  The 
day  before  a  man  had  been  called  to  the  office  and  never  returned. 
A  policeman  was  waiting  there  to  arrest  him,  and  carried  him 
away.  Had  "Mis'  Florence"  found  him,  he  wondered?  Was 
he  about  to  be  carried  home,,  and  tried  for  murder?  His  knees 
grew  weak  and  a  feeling  of  utter  desolation  swept  over  him. 

"Is — is — there  anybody  in  there  with  Mr.  Jones?"  he  finally 
managed  to  ask  of  Steve. 

"Naw !    Mr.  Nixon  was  in  there,  but  he's  gone  now." 

Jack  forced  himself  to  the  office,  turned  the  door  knob,  and 
walked  in.  Mr  Jones  was  writing,  but  stopped,  turned  in  his 
chair  and  welcomed  him  with  a  smile.  Jack  stood  first  on  one 
foot,  then  the  other,  looking  altogether  uncomfortable,  and 
waiting  for  the  overseer  to  speak.  Some  new  wrenches  were 
lying  on  the  desk.  Mr.  Jones  picked  them  up,  handed  them  to 
Jack  and  said : 

"You  are  promoted  to  head  doffer.  Here  are  a  couple  of 
new  wrenches,  a  present  from  Mr.  Nixon,  and  you  are  to  have 
the  use  of  Jim  Grant's  tools,  all  you  wish.  He  will  teach  you 
to  use  them  during  your  spare  time.     Learn  to  run  a  section." 

"Why,  Mr.  Jones!"  exclaimed  Jack.  "I  never  thought  of 
such  a  thing — so  soon !  Thank  you.  But  ain't  there  other  boys 
that  will  expect  a  raise  before  me?" 


60  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"That's  all  right,  my  boy — merit  wins  in  this  mill.  I've  kept 
my  eye  on  you  and  I  want  you  to  know  that  you  are  appreciated. 
Every  superintendent  and  overseer  watches  to  see  who  is  worthy 
of  promotion.  Do  your  best,  Keep  up  your  studies.  Stick 
like  a  leach.  Aim  for  the  top  and  you'll  get  there !  Your  wages 
will  be  75  cents  per  day  for  a  while." 

Mr.  Jones  then  dismissed  Jack  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  and 
resumed  his  writing.  Jack  walked  out  with  the  wrenches  in  his 
hand  and  a  wonderful  elation  in  his  heart.  Jim  Grant,  the  head 
section  man,  met  him  with  a  smile  and  motioned  him  to  come 
over  to  his  work  bench.  The  doffer  boys  were  crowded  in  the 
big  alley  watching  to  see  what  was  going  to  happen  to  Jack. 

"Gosh!  He's  got  some  wrenches — bet  he's  been  raised!" 
exclaimed  one. 

"Yes,  he's  got  Sam  Short's  place  as  head  doffer.  Sam  is  fired 
for  cussin'  us,"  explained  Steve.  "I  knowed  what  was  goin'  to 
happen  when  he  went  in  there." 

"Golly!  there's  four  of  us  ahead  of  him!"  exclaimed  one 
of  the  largest  in  surprised  disappointment. 

"Naw!"  said  Steve,  "they  ain't!  Narry  one  of  us  ain't  fit 
for  a  raise,  an'  we  hain't  never  thought  of  getting  fit.  Jack's 
worth  all  he  gets,  an'  I  hope  he'll  get  all  that's  comin'  to  him. 
Let's  give  three  cheers  for  our  new  head  doffer.  Come  on  boys," 
and  Steve  led ,  the  way  to  where  Jack  stood  with  Jim  Grant. 
Caps  were  tossed  high  and  such  lusty  cheers  went  up  that  the 
sound  penetrated  the  office  and  Mr.  Jones  rushed  out  to  see 
what  had  happened.  He  took  it  all  in  at  a  glance  and  returned 
to  his  desk,  glad  that  the  boys  were  all  pleased,  while  Jack,  his 
eyes  bright  with  gratitude  and  his  cheeks  blushing  over  such  an 
ovation  from  the  boys,  could  only  look  at  them  and  smile  his 
appreciation. 

"Say  something  to  them,"  whispered  Jim  Grant.  Jack 
gripped  a  wrench  in  each  hand,  coughed,  cleared  his  throat, 
shuffled  his  feet  and  looked  deeply  embarrassed,  but  finally  he 
said: 

"Thank  you,  boys — I  know  we'll  all  get  along  together— 
and  be  good  friends."  Then  to  get  away  from  them,  Jack  went 
and  hid  in  the  water  closet,  bathed  his  face  and  tried  to  regain 
his  composure.  He  examined  his  wrenches,  turning  them  in 
his  hands  lovingly.     He  could  hardly  realize  his  good  fortune. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  61 

He  wondered  though  how  he  was  going  to  keep  up  his  studies, 
now  that  he  would  be  busy  between  doffs. 

It  was  impossible  to  study  at  the  boarding  house.  Every 
room  was  full — even  the  family  apartments  were  crowded  and 
Jack  was  such  a  favorite  with  the  children  that  they  couldn't  be 
kept  away  from  him  when  he  was  there.  He  had  managed  to 
make  them  understand  with  the  help  of  Mr.  Baxter,  that  they 
must  never  intrude  on  him  in  his  own  quarters,  and  so  he  and 
Joe  could  feel  absolutely  at  ease  and  have  no  fear  of  being  inter- 
rupted when  in  the  barn.  Oh,  if  he  could  only  have  a  light  there ! 
Well,  he'd  still  have  half  an  hour  at  noon — he'd  study  then. 

Just  before  the  noon  hour,  Jim  Grant,  who  boarded  at  Mr. 
Baxter's  said  to  him : 

"You  and  I  have  a  job  for  the  noon  hour,  and  I  have  ordered 
our  dinner  sent  to  us.  We've  got  a  big  order  for  a  certain  grade 
of  goods,  and  wish  to  change  some  gearing.  We  have  to  hustle 
to  keep  up  with  the  weave  room,  and  can  save  time  by  making 
some  of  the  changes  at  noon." 

"All  right,"  was  the  good-natured  reply,  but  Jack  realized 
that  he  would  not  see  his  book  that  day.  Mr.  Baxter  brought 
dinner,  and  his  kind  gray  eyes  beamed  proudly  upon  the  boy. 
He  felt  that  he  deserved  a  little  credit  for  Jack's  good  fortune. 

"The  barn  ain't  good  enough  for  ye  no  longer,  Jack — you're 
gettin'  to  be  boss  now,  and  will  have  to  move  into  the  house," 
laughed  Baxter  "Yes,  whoever  heard  of  a  boss  man  livin'  in 
a  barn." 

"Oh,  stop  teasing,"  pleaded  Jack.  "I'm  just  the  same  boy 
that  slept  in  the  barn  last  night — I  ain't  a  bit  better,  nor  a  bit 
bigger.  I'm  proud  of  my  raise,  but  it  won't  give  me  the  swell 
head.  I  like  my  little  room  in  the  barn  with  just  Joe,  and  I'm 
not  going  to  move." 

"But  that  place  won't  do,  Jack.  It  will  be  cold  later  on. 
You'll  have  to  have  better  winter  quarters,  an'  we'll  be  glad  to 
have  you  in  the  house,"  continued  Baxter,  his  eyes  twinkling 
and  at  every  chance  he'd  bestow  a  sly  wink  on  Jim  Grant,  who 
tried  to  change  the  conversation. 

"Jack  takes  to  machinery  like  a  duck  to  water,"  he  declared, 
with  his  mouth  full  of  pie.  Just  then  Joe  dashed  up  the  steps, 
tracking  Mr.  Baxter,  and  on  seeing  Jack,  gave  a  joyous  yelp 
and  leaped  up  on  the  work  bench  by  his  side. 


62  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Thought  I  was  lost,  did  you,  old  boy?"  and  Jack  wound  one 
arm  about  the  dog's  neck.  Joe  begged  to  stay  in  the  mill,  but 
Jack  made  him  understand  that  he  could  not,  and  he  returned 
with  Mr.  Baxter. 

Jack  worked  hard  that  day.  He  missed  the  rest  between 
doffs,  and  was  very  tired,  but  happy,  when  night  came. 

"I've  already  fed  an'  watered  the  stock,  Jack.  I  didn't  have 
much  work  today,  and  had  nothing  to  do.  You  eat  your  supper 
before  ye  go  to  your  quarters,"  said  Baxter,  as  he  stopped  Jack 
in  the  yard.  Jack  always  went  straight  to  the  barn  from  the 
mill,  and  looked  after  the  stock  before  ating  his  own  supper. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Baxter;  but  if  you  do  my  work,  I  must 
pay  my  board,"  was  the  reply. 

"I  ain't  goin'  to  do  your  work  often,"  laughed  the  man.  "I 
just  done  it  this  time  'cause — well,  jest  'cause,"  and  Baxter 
pushed  Jack  into  the  kitchen,  where  supper  and  more  congratu- 
lations were  waiting. 

He  helped  to  clear  the  table  and  wash  the  dishes,  then  went 
to  the  little  room  in  the  barn,  that  he  had  learned  to  love  so  well 
and  looked  on  as  home.  When  he  opened  the  door  he  was  dumb- 
founded. A  brilliant  electric  light  swung  over  the  table  on 
which  was  a  pretty  new  cover  and  several  nice  books.  The  room 
had  been  ceiled  and  papered  and  some  pretty  pictures  hung  on 
the  walls.  The  floor  was  covered  by  a  pretty  rug  and  a  real 
washstand  with  nice  drawers  and  large  glass,  had  replaced  the 
dry  goods  box.  A  curtain  hung  across  one  corner  of  the  room, 
and  a  willow  rocker  with  soft  cushion  and  headrest  was  placed 
by  the  table.  The  old  oak  bedstead  had  been  replaced  by  a  nice 
white  iron  one,  and  the  pretty  chintz  covering  rolled  back,  show- 
ing soft  pillows  and  warm  blankets. 

"Joe !"  said  the  boy  with  a  lump  in  his  throat  as  he  backed 
out :    "I  guess  we'll  be  going — somebody  has  moved  in  on  us." 

A  suppressed  giggle  came  from  behind  a  pile  of  hay  and  a 
child's  voice  cried  out : 

"Oh,  no,  Jack,  it's  all  for  you !  Santa  Claus  has  paid  you  an 
early  visit,"  and  Ina  Nixon,  the  superintendent's  10-year-old 
daughter,  sprang  out  before  him,  followed  by  Nellie  and  Ned 
Baxter,  while  Mr.  Baxter  himself  brought  up  the  rear.  Mrs. 
Baxter,  too,  puffing  from  a  run  from  the  kitchen,  rushed  in  just 
as  Ina  caught  Jack's  hand,  saying : 

"They  made  you  stay  in  the  mill  at  noon  so  they  could  get 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  63 

it  finished  as  a  surprise  for  you.  Daddy  says  you're  the  wonder- 
fulest  boy  he  ever  saw,  and  he's  about  to  kick  hisself  for  not 
looking  after  you  sooner.  He  says  you'll  be  a  superintendent 
yourself  some  day,  if  you  stick  and  you'll  do  that,  won't  you?" 

"You  bet  I  will!"  declared  Jack,  with  shining  eyes. 

"Well,  it  is  nice,  sure  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Baxter.  "But 
I'm  afraid  we'll  never  get  Jack  in  the  house  now,"  and  she  went 
inside  the  room  and  examined  the  chair  cushion.  That  and  the 
head  rest,  were  made  by  Ina  and  her  mother  presented  the  chair. 

Nellie  had  made  and  contributed  the  pretty  brown  linen 
tables  cover,  embroidered  with  daisies,  and  Mrs.  Baxter  gave 
the  new  table. 

Mr.  Nixon  would  have  done  all  the  furnishing  but  Baxter 
wouldn't  hear  to  it,  and  so  both  families  contributed  to  the  com- 
fort and  pleasure  of  the  orphan. 

"Wonder  what  the  curtain's  across  the  corner  for?" 

"Oh!"  laughed  Ned,  "that's  for  Jack  to  hide  behind  if  he 
isn't  properly  dressed  when  ladies  call." 

"Who's  goin'  to  call  on  me,"  grinned  Jack. 

"We'd  like  to,  if  you'd  invite  us,"  said  Nellie,  nodding  to- 
ward Ina,  who  instantly  scored  a  point. 

"Oh,  Jack!  Let's  have  school  here  every  evening  after 
supper.    We'll  help  you,  and  you  can  help  us." 

"Good!"  replied  Jack,  "but  I'm  afraid  I  can't  help  you 
much,"  he  added  doubtfully 

"One  good  thing — it  ain't  never  much  cold  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Baxter. 

"If  it  gets  too  cold,  I'll  have  daddy  to  give  us  an  oil  heater. 
We've  got  several,"  said  Ina.  "If  he's  afraid  for  it  to  stay  here, 
we  can  carry  it  out  when  we  finish  our  lessons." 

Christmas  came  and  Jack  saw  his  first  Sunday  school 
Christmas  tree.  He  had  bought  pretty,  inexpensive  remem- 
brances for  each  of  the  Baxter  family,  and  for  all  the  doffer 
boys.  Ina  Nixon;  too,  received  a  lovely  embroidered  handker- 
chief. Each  package  had  been  neatly  wrapped  and  tied  with 
narrow  Christmas  ribbons  and  contained  a  little  Christmas  card 
signed  "Jack."  These  had  been  smuggled  to  those  who  had 
charge  of  the  tree. 

He  was  surprised  to  get  quite  a  number  of  presents  him- 
self, besides  the  Sunday  school  fruits  and  candies.  That  Christ- 
mas always  stood  out  distinctly  in  Jack's  mind,  as  the  most  won- 


64  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

derful  he  had  ever  known,  and  the  happiest  since  the  death  of 
his  mother. 

The  winter  proved  mild,  and  according  to  arrangements, 
our  four  young  people  had  a  delightful  time  studying  in  Jack's 
cosy  room.  Ned  Baxter  shook  off  the  dullness  that  made  him  a 
laggard  in  his  class,  and  became  thrilled  by  the  influence  of 
Jack's  energy  and  ambition,  making  such  rapid  progress  that  his 
teacher  was  astonished.  Ned  was  afraid  that  Jack  would  catch 
him — and  he  studied  as  he  never  had  before. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  following  Spring  Jack  bought  a  two-gallon  ice  cream 
freezer  and  learned  to  make  cream,  which  he  found  was  eagerly 
bought.  It  was  no  trouble  to  dispose  of  two  gallons  at  the  board- 
ing house  on  Saturday  evenings  and  there  was  a  big  demand  for 
it  at  the  park  and  ball  ground.  He  soon  had  such  a  trade  that  he 
bought  another  churn,  and  hired  Ned  Baxter  to  help  him. 

For  a  few  weeks  Ned  worked  with  a  will,  but  spent  his 
money  as  fast  as  he  made  it.  Then  he  decided  that  he  couldn't 
confine  himself  to  business  on  Saturdays,  after  studying  hard 
all  the  week,  and  he  told  Jack  so. 

"But,  Ned.  you  have  lots  of  time — and  you  are  making  your 
own  money.  Your  father  buys  everything  you  need  and  you 
could  save  what  you  make  with  me  and  invest  it,  or  put  it  in  the 
bank  and  draw  interest,"  said  Jack. 

"Save  nothing — I  can't  save.  I  haven't  got  a  cent  of  the  two 
dollars  I  made  last  Saturday.  What  it's  gone  for  I  don't  know. 
I've  got  nothing  to  show  for  it,"  and  in  spite  of  all  Jack  could 
say,  Ned  quit,  much  to  the  disappointment  of  his  mother,  who 
gave  him  a  "piece  of  her  mind." 

"Jack  ain't  never  had  no  chance,  but  he's  goin'  to-  be 
somethin',  an'  have  somethin'.  I've  worked  an  slaved  day  in  an' 
day  out  ,to  send  you  to  school,  an'  I  don't  recon'  you'll  ever  earn 
the  salt  in  your  bread,"  she  grumbled. 

Jack  found  a  nice,  clean  colored  boy,  who  promptly  executed 
his  orders,  bought  ice  and  everything  necessary,  and  soon  learned 
to  make  the  cream.  He  became  better  and  more  satisfactory 
help  than  Ned  had  been  and  worked  for  less.  Business  was  so 
good  that  Jack  made  plenty  for  all  his  expenses,  and  during  the 
whole  summer  deposited  his  entire  mill  earnings  in  the  office. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  65 

He  did  not  neglect  his  duties  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baxter,  both 
of  whom  became  greatly  attached  to  the  boy.  He  had  offered 
to  pay  for  his  board,  but  both  had  declared  emphatically  that 
his  services  were  worth  more  than  his  keep,  and  had  often  urged 
him  to  take  a  room  in  the  house;  but  he  refused.  He  knew  he 
would  have  to  room  with  Ned,  and  he  preferred  to  be  alone  with 
Joe.  Jack  stuck  to  his  books,  too.  Except  on  Saturday  nights 
and  Sundays,  he  had  two  solid  hours  of  hard  study.  During 
work  hours,  Jack  faithfully  and  religiously  performed  his  work. 

The  superintendent  and  overseer  kept  an  eye  on  Jack  and 
marveled.  They  noticed  that  the  boy  never  failed  to  pick  up 
bobbins  or  clean  waste  that  he  saw  on  the  floor;  that  he  had  a 
quick  eye  for  defective  machinery,  a  quick  ear  for  anything  that 
had  not  been  properly  oiled,  and  that  he  took  great  interest  in 
his  work. 

"There's  something  in  that  boy,"  they  would  say  to  each 
other."  But  Jack  was  all  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
the  subject  of  admirable  comment. 

One  day  a  small,  pleasant-faced  old  gentleman  called  to  see 
the  superintendent  and  while  in  the  office  Jack  came  in  with  a 
report,  which  he  carefully  filed  on  the  superintendent's  desk.  He 
was  about  to  pass  out,  when  Mr.  Nixon  stopped  him. 

"Jack,  come  back  a  moment,  I  want  you  to  meet  the  mill 
boys'  friend— Mr.  G.  S.  Escott,  editor  of  The  Mill  News.  Mr. 
Escott,  this  is  Jack  Armstrong,  one  of  our  future  men  of  note,, 
if  I'm  not  greatly  mistaken." 

Jack  doffed  his  cap  and  came  forward,  blushing  modestly. 

"I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  Jack,"  was  the  hearty  greeting  of 
the  South's  most  beloved  Textile  editor,  and  Jack  felt  the  thrill 
of  sincerity  in  the  firm  handclasp  and  cheery  voice. 

"And  I  am  more  than  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Escott.  I've 
seen  several  copies  of  The  Mill  News  and  like  it." 

"How  would  you  like  to  read  it  every  week,  my  boy?  Mr. 
Nixon  has  been  telling  me  about  you.  I  feel  deeply  interested 
in  all  mill  boys,  and  especially  those  who  are  energetic  and 
ambitious,"  said  Mr.  Escott. 

"The  price  is  only  one  dollar  per  year — less  than  two  cents 
a  week,  you  see,"  smiled  the  editor.  "But  if  you  will  promise 
to  read  it,  and  in  future  years  give  it  credit  for  any  help  it 
may  give  you.  you  shall  have  it  a  year  free  of  charge." 


66  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"Why,  thank  you,  Mr.  Escott,  of  course  I'd  do  that — but 
let  me  pay  for  it,"  and  Jack  drew  a  dollar  from  his  overall 
pocket.     The  superintendent  laughed : 

"Better  take  it,  Escott — you  ought  to  see  his  bank  account." 

But  Mr.  Escott  was  busy  writing  Jack's  name. 

"What  address?"  he  asked. 

"Barnyard  Avenue,"  teased  Mr.  Nixon. 

"In  care  of  Baxter  Heights,"  smiled  Jack,  "and  thank  you 
sir." 

"You  are  welcome,  my  boy.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  read  and 
profit  by  it  Here's  a  copy  of  last  issue.  You  will  always  get 
your  paper  on  Friday." 

Jack  has  never  been  without  the  paper  since.  He  studied 
it  carefully  and  followed  the  advice  of  Mr.  Nixon  he  clipped  and 
treasured  rules  and  calculations  found  in  its  pages,  pasting  them 
in  a  big  scrap  book  for  future  refernce.  He  did  not  understand 
them  all  at  first  of  course;  but  the  superintendent  had  assured 
him  that  they  would  "come  in  handy"  some  day;  and  now  that 
old  scrap  book  is  one  of  Jack's  most  valued  possessions,  furnish- 
ing a  fund  of  information,  such  as  no  book  published  has  ever 
gotten  together. 

Jack  often  had  a  bitter  struggle  to  resist  the  temptations 
of  his  companions  to  join  in  their  sports  and  larks.  Because  he 
would  not  smoke,  they  called  him  "Sainty."  When  he  clung  to 
liis  books  rather  than  attend  shows  and  carnivals,  they  called 
him  "Granny."  But  he  registered  a  vow  to  "make  a  man  of 
himself,"  and  he  knew  that  he  was  making  good.  He  believed 
that  his  rapid  progress  in  his  studies  was  largely  due  to  the  fact 
that  his  intellect  had  never  been  dulled  by  the  use  of  the  filthy 
and  poisonous  cigarette. 

He  could  afford  to  listen  to  taunts  when  he  realized  how 
he  was  outstripping  the  taunters.  His  wages  had  been  raised, 
and  now  he  was  making  one  dollar  per  day,  considered  in  those 
days  a  man's  wages.  He  was  becoming  an  expert  frame  fixer, 
and  was  often  given  charge  of  a  section  for  an  hour  or  two, 
when  any  one  of  the  fixers  asked  "out"  to  attend  to  business 
at  home  or  in  town. 

Time  passed  on  and  when  Jack  had  been  two  years  in  the 
mill,  he  decided  to  break  the  monotony  by  giving  the  boys  a 
party.  He  spoke  to  Mr.  Baxter  about  it,  saying  that  he  wanted 
to  treat  the  boys  to  cream,  and  have  a  little  fun,  all  to  them- 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  67 

selves.  The  big  barn  was  an  ideal  place  for  a  gathering  of 
youngsters,  and  about  sixteen  spinning  room  boys,  ranging  in 
age  from  twelve  to  sixteen,  received  the  following  invitations, 
each  reading  them  on  the  sly,  and  religiously  keeping  silent: 

"Dear  Friend:  You  are  invited  to  my  room  Thursday 
evening  at  8  o'clock.  Don't  tell  anyone  else,  and  don't  fail  to 
come.    Cream  will  be  served.  Jack" 

"Cream  will  be  served!"  Jack's  cream  was  known  to  be 
extra  fine  and  every  boy,  anxious  to  have  his  appetite  appeased, 
kept  the  secret,  hoping  that  no  one  else  knew. 

Baxter  helped  Jack  with  his  arrangements  and  also  made 
some  arrangements  on  the  sly,  which  we  hope  our  readers  will 
forgive.  He  had  the  boys'  confidence  and  knew  that  the  party 
would  be  interesting. 

The  night  arrived,  and  promptly  at  8  o'clock,  the  guests 
filed  in,  each  glaring  jealously  at  the  other,  and  wondering  how 
much  cream  Jack  had;  then  sighing  with  satisfaction  as  they 
saw  both  his  churns  standing  packed  in  ice.  There  were  two 
long  benches  in  the  barn,  borrowed  by  Baxter  from  the  mill 
lawn,  and  a  large  table  had  been  laid  with  a  white  cloth,  on 
which  were  plenty  of  ice  cream  saucers  and  spoons,  and  a  great 
glass  bowl  of  wafers.  Half  a  dozen  lanterns  were  swung  from 
the  rafters,  giving  a  bright  mellow  light,  and  "Jack's  boy" 
(Sambo,  his  colored  helper),  had  actually  dressed  in  his 
immaculate  white  duck  "waiter-suit"  and  cap,  that  Jack  made 
him  wear  when  helping  at  the  park  and  ball  ground. 

Jack  welcomed  his  guests  and  showed  them  his  room,  which 
many  of  them  had  never  seen. 

"This  is  my  home,  and  Joe's,"  he  said. 

"No  one  ever  intrudes  on  us  here  without  an  invitation,  and 
so  I  get  to  read  and  study  with  more  satisfaction  than  you  can 
guess,"  showing  them  his  books. 

"Gee !  I  wish  I  had  a  nice  room  to  stay  in  at  home,"  exclaim- 
ed one  wistfully. 

"Me,  too,"  said  another.  "I  wouldn't  ever  want  to  go  out 
at  night,  if  I  had  a  nice  place  to  stay  in, — a  room  to  call  my  own." 

"I'm  goin'  to  ask  mother  to  give  me  a  room  to  myself,"  said 
Steve  Laney.  "We've  got  two  upstairs  we  don't  use  and  if  she'd 
give  one  to  me  I'd  keep  it  cleaned  up  myself  jest  so  I  could  call 
it  mine,"  he  said. 


68  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"Boys  don't  get  no  show,"  said  Tommy  Dawkins.  "Gals  can 
have  rooms  to  theyselves,  an'  have  purty  little  things  in  'em ;  but 
boys  have  to  squeeze  in  jest  anywhere,  outten  the  way,  an'  ruther 
then  smother  we  git  out  on  the  street  an'  that  means  bad  com- 
pany sometimes.  I  guess  our  parents  don't  think  about  boys, 
much." 

"Maybe  that's  why  boys  ain't  blamed  much  as  gals  if  they 
go  wrong,"  said  one  of  the  oldest.  "They  don't  get  no  snow — 
and  everybody  knows  it — and  there  ain't  much  expected  of  'em. 
Nobody  is  surprised  if  they  'sow  wild  oats.'  " 

Under  the  long  wagon  shelter  back  of  the  barn  three  men 
were  listening.  They  were  Superintendent  Nixon,  Overseer 
Jones  and  Baxter.  A  plank  had  been  ripped  off  and  a  full  view 
of  the  big  barn  room  was  given.  The  superintendent  could  hear 
every  word  and  was  thinking  fast. 

The  boys  now  came  out  of  Jack's  room,  and  the  men  noticed 
a  very  serious  expression  on  the  young  host's  face.  He  was  as 
large  now  as  any  sixteen-year-old  boy  in  the  room.  The  way  he 
had  grown  the  past  two  years  was  something  wonderful,  thanks 
to  Mrs.  Baxer. 

"Have  seats,  boys,"  said  Jack,  kindly  Then  with  one  hand 
on  the  table  he  stood  and  faced  them. 

"Boys,  if  asking  you  here  and  showing  you  my  room 
makes  you  dissatisfied  at  home,  I  shall  be  sorry.  I  wanted  us  to 
get  together  and  have  a  nice  time,  celebrating  the  second  anni- 
versary of  my  coming  among  you.  You  have  all  been  kind  to 
me,  and  I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand  how  I  love  you 
all.    None  of  you  have  had  a  harder  life  than  I." 

"Tell  us  all  about  yourself  an'  where  you  came  from,"  asked 
one.    Jack's  face  turned  white,  and  he  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Friends,  it's  too  sad — don't  ask  me.  I'm  an  orphan — all 
alone  in  the  world,  and  hiding  from  a  stepmother  who  stole  my 
father's  heart  and  home  from  me.  Don't  ask  me  more,"  he 
faltered. 

"I  told  Mr.  Nixon  about  it  the  day  I  asked  him  for  a  job, 
and  he  took  me  in  and  helped  me.  I'll  never  forget  it,  and  if  I 
ever  amount  to  anything  I  will  owe  it  to  him  and  my  good  friends, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baxter.  Boys,  I  thought  we  would  have  some  fun 
tonight.  I  wanted  to  have  Joe  perform  for  you,  but  I  fear  some- 
thing has  happened  to  him.    He  has  been  missing  the  past  hour. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  69 

Then,  too,  your  remarks  about  your  homes  and  why  you  go  out 
at  night,  has  set  me  to  thinking." 

The  men  behind  the  barn  listened  eagerly.  Jack  continued 
earnestly : 

"I  wish  we  could  manage  some  way  to  keep  you  interested 
at  night,  and  keep  you  off  the  streets.  You  are  all  such  good 
boys  and  ought  to  have  a  chance.  Isn't  there  some  way?  Can't 
you  outwit  fate?  As  the  old  saying  goes,  can't  you  stand  your 
ground  and  fight  the  devil  with  his  own  weapons?  Boys,  who 
are  going  to  fill  the  vacancies  that  must  come  in  the  mills,  bye 
and  bye?  How  many  of  us  are  thinking  of  the  future?  I've 
learned  a  lot  by  reading  Mill  News  the  past  year.  We  think  that 
overseers  and  superintendents  don't  notice  our  struggles,  but 
I'm  beginning  to  think  they  do.  They  have  to  send  off  for  over- 
seers, just  because  none  in  their  own  mills  are  qualified.  Let's 
see  to  it,  that  the  spinning  room  boys  shall  represent  our  mill 
somewhere  in  the  future.  I  memorized  a  little  poem  the  other 
day,  which  I  am  going  to  recite.  Somehow,  it  helped  me  a  lot 
and  maybe  it  will  help  you."  Then  the  listeners  were  amazed 
and  thrilled  with  unexpeced  eloquence  and  oratory,  as  Jack 
recited  slowly  and  with  great  power  of  expression,  his  whole  face 
lighted  with  earnestness  and  enthusiasm : 

"Be  strong! 
We  are  not  here  to  play, — to  dream,  to  drift. 
We  have  hard  work  to  do  and  loads  to  lift. 
Shun  not  the  struggle, — face  it ;  'tis  God's  gift. 

Be  strong! 
Say  not  the  days  are  evil.    Who's  to  blame? 
And  fold  the  hands  and  acquiesce — 0  shame ! 
Stand  up,  speak  out,  and  bravely,  in  God's  name. 

Be  strong ! 
It  matters  not  how  deep  intrenched  the  wrong, 
How  hard  the  battles  goes,  the  day,  how  long ; 
Faint  not, — fight  on !    Tomorrow  comes  the  song." 

Applause  came  in  lusty  cheers  and  hearty  hand  clapping. 

"Jack,  you're  a  preacher!"  "No,  he's  goin'  to  be  a  lawyer!" 
"A  mill  superintendent!"  "Gosh  no! — he'll  never  stop  till  he 
gits  to  be  president!"  were  the  excited  exclamations,  as  Jack 
finished. 


70  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"May  I  say  a  word?"  asked  Steve  Laney,  springing  to  his 
feet. 

"Sure  you  may,  Steve. — Let's  hear  from  any  one  who  has 
something  on  his  mind,"  said  Jack,  happy  to  see  Steve  looking 
very  much  in  earnest. 

"I'm  so  full  I'm  about  to  bust,  an'  I  don't  know  how  to  say 
what  I  want  to.  But  Jack,  here's  my  hand,"  and  he  walked  to 
Jack  and  they  stood  there  gripping  hands  and  looking  each  other 
in  the  face.     Steve  turned  to  the  others  still  holding  to  Jack. 

"Boys,  we  are  all  darn  fools,  if  we  don't  turn  about  face  an' 
march  different  to  what  we've  been  doin'.  I  never  hearn  any- 
thing to  beat  Jack's  speech.  Let's  all  make  Jack  a  leader,  an' 
let  him  make  somethin'  outen  us  if  he  can."  Jack  blushed.  What 
he  had  said  was  not  premeditated  and  he  had  just  realized  what 
he  had  done.  He  had  never  before  made  a  "speech"  and  this  had 
just  bubble  up  from  his  heart,  unexpectedly.  He  had  completely 
forgotten  himself  in  his  interest  in  the  boys,  and  now  was  over- 
whelmed as  they  crowded  around  him  eagerly : 

"We'll  follow  you  anywhere,  Jack,"  they  cried.  "We  want 
to  be  something,  but  we  don't  know  how,  an'  chances  are  mighty 
slim." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  stammered  Jock — "what  can  I 
do  for  you?    You  all  have  parents  to  teach  you — " 

"They're  too  busy — we  want  something  with  you  in  it, 
Jack,"  they  cried. 

"I'll  have  to  think  it  over,  boys — say — will  you  all  meet  me 
here  again  next  Thursday  night?" 

"Sure,  we  will,"  they  chorused. 

"Alright,  then.  I  will  try  to  think  by  then,  what  can  be 
done,"  he  stammered  almost  overcome  by  his  emotions.  Then 
he  turned  to  Sambo,  who  had  stood  by  silently  with  an  appre- 
ciative grin  on  his  black  face : 

"You  may  serve  the  cream  now."  And  soon  the  boys  were 
served  to  their  favorite  delicacy,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  some 
of  them  had  reached  a  climax  in  their  lives. 

The  men  under  the  shelter  realized  that  a  great  moment 
had  come  to  these  boys.  They  had  reached  the  "crossing." 
Which  road  would  they  take?  They  were  ready  for  action — 
eager  for  battles  to  fight, — longing  for  victories.  Into  the  heart 
of  the  superintendent  there  crept  a  resolve.  He  would  help  Jack 
to  "find  a  way." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  71 

Jack  laughed  and  joked  with  the  boys  and  tried  to  hide 
from  them  the  fact  that  he  was  worried  so,  over  the  absence 
of  Joe.  Ah !  perhaps  Mrs.  Baxter  had  found  it  necessary  to  send 
him  to  the  postoffice, — or  to  the  market.  He  whispered  to 
Sambo  to  go  and  ask  her. 

Sambo  ran  out  and  presently  returned,  saying  that  Joe 
had  gone  to  the  postoffice  to  mail  some  letters,  but  had  been 
gone  longer  than  usual,  and  Mrs.  Baxter  was  uneasy  too. 

"Boys,"  said  Jack,  "I  am  very  much  afraid  something  has 
happened  to  my  dog.  He's  never  done  this  way  before.  Seems 
to  me  I  couldn't  live  without  Joe.  He  has  been  my  playmate 
for  seven  years.  I  know  he  can't  live  always — but  he  is  not 
old — and  has  never  shown  signs  of  age.  Boys,  how  long  do  dogs 
live?" 

"Law,  Jack,  our  dog  is  old  as  I  am,"  declared  Steve  Laney, 
quickly.  "Joe  will  live  many  years  yet.  Don't  you  worry  about 
him.  Everybody  in  this  town  knows  Joe.  The  papers  are  always 
printing  something  nice  about  him.  No  one  would  hurt  your 
dog — and  he  wouldn't  let  hisself  be  stole." 

"We'll  all  turn  out  and  help  you  find  him  if  you  want  to  go 
look  for  him,"  declared  Tommy  Dawkins.  Sambo  had  been  out 
in  the  yard  and  now  dashed  into  the  barn  excitedly. 

"Gawd  amighty,  Mister  Jack,  Joe's  a  commin  wid  a  burgler ! 
He  done  kotched  somebody  an  got  'im  by  de  cote  tail  an  leading 
'im  in,"  and  Sambo  backed  up  in  one  corner,  just  as  Joe  came  to 
the  door  with  his  prisoner,  and  barked  joyously.  He  left  his 
charge  for  a  moment  and  dashed  to  Jack,  then  dashed  out  in 
the  yard. 

"What  is  it  old  boy?"  and  Jack,  followed  by  the  others, 
rushed  out  to  where  a  little  old  withered  colored  man  stood 
leaning  on  a  stick. 

The  men  had  hurried  from  behind  the  barn  and  were  at  the 
corner  coming  to  the  front.  One  of  the  boys  had  taken  down  a 
lantern  and  stood  in  the  door  holding  it  above  his  head.  Joe 
leaped  from  the  old  darkey  to  Jack.  Jack  rushed  forward  for- 
getful of  everything  and  gathered  the  old  man  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  Mose!  Mose!  Dear  Mose!  Good  Mose!  Can  it  be  pos- 
sible?" he  said,  laughing  and  crying,  while  the  old  man  kept 
repeating : 

"Lil'  Marse — oh,  lil  Marse !  Didn't  I  tole  you  so?  Honey  lam' 
de  Lawd  done  brung  us  togedder  agin — an'  Joe  was  His  good 


72  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

agint.  Oh,  lil  Marse,  am  dis  yo'  shore  enuff  ?  I's  bin  lookin'  for 
you  honey,  mitey  ni  eber  since  yo'  bin  gone.  Oh,  how  you  has 
growd!    Bres  de  Lawd  fo'  His  mercies!" 

The  superintendent  whispered  something  to  Baxter,  who 
nodded  his  head,  and  he  and  Mr.  Jones  silently  slipped  away  in 
the  darkness.  Then  Baxter  quietly  went  to  Steve  Laney,  wisper- 
ed  something  to  him,  and  presently  the  crowd  had  dispersed 
feeling  that  there  was  something  too  sacred  in  the  meeting  of 
Jack  and  this  old  darkey  for  them  to  gaze  upon. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Jack  looked  around,  thinking  to  explain  to  his  friends  what 
they  had  more  than  likely  guessed,  that  Mose  was  "an  old  friend 
from  home,"  but  was  surprised  to  find  that  all  had  gone.  He 
drew  a  sigh  of  relief  and  thankfulness.  Now  he  could  have 
Mose  all  to  himself,  and  there  were  so  many  things  to  talk 
about, — so  much  to  explain. 

"Come,  sit  down,  and  tell  me  everything.  How  did  Joe  find 
you?"  asked  Jack,  as  they  both  seated  themselves  in  the  barn 
door,  with  Joe  at  their  feet. 

"Honey,  hit  beat  eberting, — he  grabbed  me  by  de  britches 
an'  pulled  me  back  ez  I  wuz  a  gittin'  on  de  train.  I  had  trabbled 
all  ober  de  town  de  las'  two  days  lookin'  fur  ye.  I  bin  a  trabblin 
to  diffrunt  places  an'  makin'  all  kinds  of  inquiries,  but  dey  ain't 
nobody  eber  hearn  tell  o'  a  boy  named  Jack  LeGrande."  Jack 
smiled,  and  replied : 

"I  am  Jack  Armstrong.    And  you  were  leaving?" 

"Yes,  I  wuz  des  gettin  on  de  train  when  I  felt  sumpin  pullen 
me  back  by  de  laig,  an'  when  I  seen  Joe  I  des  fell  offen  dem 
steps  and  flung  my  arms  roun'  his  neck  an'  hollered  'Glory!'  A 
big  orficer  wid  a  blue  coat  on  grabbed  me  an'  say :  "What's  de 
mattah  niggah?  Is  you  got  de  jimjams?  Come  erlong  wid  me.' 
An'  he  got  me  by  de  arm,  he  did,  an  'low  he  gwine  ter  lock  me 
up.  Den  Joe  he  rar  up  on  dat  man  an'  look  him  in  de  eye  an' 
growl,  an'  de  man  turnt  me  loose.  Den  Joe  he  got  down.  De 
man  he  say:  'Niggah,  better  'splain  yerself !  Youse  been  loafin 
roun'  here  two  days  now — Fse  been  watching  ye,  and  didn't  I 
kotch  ye  stealin  dat  dog?"     Sez  I: 

"  'Mister,  dat  dog's  massa  is  mine,  an'  Fse  been  looking  for 
him  gwine  on  two  yeah.     Doan  lock  me  up ;  I  ain't  done  nuffin 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  73 

'tall — des  a  lookin  fur  my  'lil  marse  what  lef  home  an  got  lostetiV 
Joe  growled  at  him  again,  den  grabbed  me  by  de  coat  tail  an' 
started  off  wid  me  an  de  man  sorter  laff ,  an  sed : 

"Well,  go  'long  niggah ;  f rum  de  way  de  dog  acts,  I  believe 
he  knows  you;  an  me  and  Joe  come  on."  Joe  got  up  and  placed 
his  paw  on  Mose's  knee,  and  stood  there  looking  into  the  old 
black  face  with  a  world  of  love  in  his  brown  eyes. 

"There  never  was  such  a  dog,"  declared  Jack,  leaning  over 
and  patting  Joe. 

"Honey,  is  you  been  well?  But  I  knows  you  is  frum  de  way 
you's  growed.  Who  wuz  all  dem  boys  dat  wuz  here  dis  now?" 
asked  Mose. 

"They  were  some  friends  of  mine — some  of  the  mill  boys. 
I  was  giving  them  a  party.  I'll  give  you  some  ice  cream  when 
you  rest  a  little." 

"Lil'  marse  does  you  mean  facktery  folks?  You  ain't 
soshatin  wid  dem  is  you,  now  honey?"  asked  the  old  man, 
anxiously. 

"Mose,  I'll  tell  you  everything  soon  as  I  can.  But  don't  you 
know  what  I'm  dying  to  hear  about  first,  and  am  afraid  to  ask?" 
and  Jack  took  an  old  black  hand  and  stroked  it  tenderly. 

"You  means  about  Mis'  Florence  and  Arfur?  Dey  is  bofe 
well."    Jack  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  low  cry. 

"Mose!  oh,  Mose!  Is  Arthur  alive?  Didn't  I— didn't— "  and 
Jack  sank  down  on  the  ground,  shaking  with  sobs.  Mose  lifted 
the  boy  in  his  arms. 

"Honey  lam'  is  you  been  thinkin'  dat  all  dis  time?  Hain't 
you  neber  hearn  nuffin  from  nobdy?  Is  dat  turrible  thing  been 
yo'  company  day  an  night?"  and  the  old  man  choked  down  for 
a  moment  thinking  of  what  Jack  must  have  suffered. 

"Yes,  chile,  dey  bofe  well.  I'll  neber  forgib  mahsef  fo' 
sendin  you  off  lak  dat,  but  Gawd  knows  I  acted  'cordin  to  mah 
lights.  I'se  prayed  day  an  night  dat  de  Shepard  let  me  fin'  dis 
los'  lam  'fore  he  gedder  me  into  de  sheepfold,"  said  the  old  man. 

"It  turned  out  all  right,  Mose,  and  now  I'm  perfectly  happy. 
Oh !  I'm  so  glad  I'm  not  a  murderer !  Now  tell  me  about  Mammy 
Dilsie."  Mose  heaved  a  sigh,  then  looked  up  into  the  heavens. 
Pointing  with  his  trembling  finger,  he  said: 

"Honey,  you  see  dem  stars?  When  you  wuz  'bout  fo'  year 
old  you  axe  me  one  night  if  dey  wuz  holes  in  de  flore  ob  heben, 
an  wuz  de  brightness  de  glory  a  shinin'  f  rew.    You  got  dem  purty 


74  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

ideas  from  yo'  ma.  She  wuz  allers  tellin'  you  about  heben.  Lil' 
Marse,  Dilsie  up  dar,  an  I  'low  she  lookin'  frew  de  fiore  an' 
watchin'  ober  Mose." 

Oh!  my  good  mammy  Dilsie,"  sobbed  Jack.  "I'll  never 
see  her  again!  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Mose — did  she  suffer?"  and 
he  clasped  the  old  hands  tighter  and  tighter. 

"No,  honey,  she  neber  wuz  sick  a  minute.  We  wuz  fixin'  to 
go  to  bed,  an'  wuz  a  holding  our  fambly  prayers.  She  wuz  a 
kneelin'  at  de  big  rocker  what  yo'  ma  gib  her,  an'  she  neber  got 
up  no  mo' ;  she  wuz  a  leadin'  de  prayer,  dat  night  an  her  las' 
words  wuz,  'Oh,  Lawd,  don'  forget  111—  Marse  Jack!'  Den  she 
stop,  she  did,  an'  I  'low  she  des  obercome  wid  her  feelins  and  I 
took  up  whar  she  lef  off  an  finished.  When  I  sed  a'men,'  she 
never  riz.  I  'low  she  wuz  des  a  communin  wid  de  Lawd,  an'  I 
eased  off  to  bed.  I  lay  dar,  an'  watched  an  waited,  an'  she  neber 
moved  ner  made  no  soun'.  Den  a  sumpin  clutched  my  po'  ole 
h'art  wid  a  big  fear,  an'  I  called  her.  She  neber  answered,  an' 
when  I  got  up  an'  went  to  her,  I  seen  dat  her  sperrit  had  gone  to 
glory."  Mose  paused  for  a  moment  and  drew  his  hand  across 
his  eyes ;  Jack  was  sobbing  unrestrainedly  now.    Mose  continued : 

"Dat  wuz  de  las'  day  of  August,  atter  you  lef  in  June.  An' 
now,  I'se  foun'  you,  an'  bress  Gawd  I'se  ready  to  answer  de  roll- 
call,  too.  Oh!  lil'  Marse,  lil  Marse!  Hit's  a  great  thing  to  be 
ready.    Is  you  ready,  honey?" 

"Oh,  Mose,  no!  but  I  wish  I  were.  I  am  so  happy  and 
miserable,  too.  Am  so  glad  Arthur  is  living  and  so  sorry  Aunt 
Dilsie  is  gone  and  I'll  see  her  no  more.  But  I  have  you — and 
Joe." 

"Honey,  you  gwine  ter  see  her  if  you  git  ready  fo'  de 
journey,  f  'low  she's  yo'  ma's  hand-maid,  up  dar,  des  as  she 
wuz  here !  Dat  would  please  /ier  better'n  anything  elese,  an'  de 
good  Lawd  gwine  ter  let  everybody  have  dey  pleasures  up  dar." 

For  some  little  time  neither  spoke.  Jack's  heart  was  stirred 
with  many  emotions.    Present^  he  sprang  up : 

"Mose!  you  are  tired  and  hungry — I'll  go  to  the  house  and 
get  something  for  you.  I  was  so  proud  to  see  you  I  almost  forgot 
it.  You  are  sure  it's  you — and  you  won't  be  gone  if  I  turn  my 
head?"    Mose  laughed  softly : 

"Honey,  I  ain't  never  been  a  spook  but  once — does  you 
'member  dat  night?" 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  75 

"Well,  I  guess  I  do!  Didn't  we  have  some  fun?  But,  now 
you  stay  right  here  till  I  get  back,"  and  Jack  started  for  the 
boarding  house.  When  he  had  reached  the  lot  gate  he  paused, 
then  ran  back. 

"Mose — I — am  so  afraid  it's  all  a  dream !  But  you  are  here 
— you  won't  be  gone  when  I  get  back,  will  you?"  and  Jack 
reached  out  and  touched  the  old  gray  head  to  make  sure  it  was 
all  true. 

"Honey,  I  shore  is  here,  an'  dey  ain't  no  joke  'bout  bein' 
hongry.  Des  you  run  erlong  an  git  me  a  piece  o'  bread  'cause 
my  inners  is  gettin  mighty  oneasy,  an'  raisin'  a  tumble  fuss," 
and  Jack  darted  to  the  house,  where  he  found  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Baxter  together 

"Mother  Baxter,"  (all  the  boarders  called  her  that,  and  so 
did  Jack)  "the  dearest  friend  I  have  on  earth,  the  old  man  who 
has  always  known  and  nursed  me,  has  come  and  is  hungry — " 

"Here's  a  waiter  all  fixed  for  him,  Jack — we  thought  some- 
thin'  of  the  kind.  'Pa'  was  out  in  the  lot  when  he  come,  and 
heard  enough  to  make  him  guess  more,"  said  the  good  woman 
kindly.  "Take  this  to  him.  Let  Sambo  come  to  the  house 
directly,  and  I'll  send  some  quilts  out  there,  too,  to  fix  him  a  good 
pallet." 

"Sambo  has  cleaned  up  and  gone,  but  I  will  come  and  get 
them  myself.  Oh,  you  are  so  good!  You've  been  a  mother  to 
me,  sure  enough,"  murmured  Jack.  "I'd  like  for  you  both  to 
come  out  and  see  Mose  and  let  him  tell  you  all  about  me.  When 
you  took  me  in  I  was  the  most  miserable  boy  on  earth.  I  thought 
I  was  a  murderer,  but  oh,  I'm  not — I'm  not!  Come  out  and  let 
Mose  tell  you  everything." 

"We'll  be  out  there  directly  with  some  quilts,"  said  Baxter, 
and  Jack  hurried  back  to  Mose. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  Baxter  and  his  wife  left  the  barn, 
where  they  had  been  given  a  full  history  of  Jack's  life  and  their 
eyes  were  dim  with  tears  over  the  recital.  Mose  had  been  told 
of  all  that  had  happened  to  Jack  and  some  of  his  prejudice 
against  "factery  folks"  had  been  removed,  while  he  ate  ice  cream 
and  listened. 

Mose  had  left  his  home  in  the  hands  of  his  daughter  and  her 
husband,  who  had  stayed  with  him  since  Dilsie  died,  and  had 
taken  what  money  he  had  saved  and  started  on  his  hunt  for 


76  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

Jack,  doing  odd  jobs,  cutting  wood,  cleaning  yards,  hoeing 
gardens  and  anything  he  could  find  to  do,  to  help  pay  his  ex- 
penses and  he  had  a  few  dollars  left.  When  he  learned  that 
Jack  was  determined  to  stick  to  his  job  in  the  mill,  Mose  said: 

"Well,  lil'  Marse,  Fse  gwine  ter  stay  too.  I  'low  I  kin  fin' 
enough  to  do  to  pay  mah  way,  an'  I  ain't  neber  gwine  ter  leave 
you  no  mo." 

"No,  Mose,  you  shall  never  leave  me,  and  I'll  never  leave  you. 
We'll  fix  it  somehow — don't  you  worry — we'll  never  again  be 
separated.  I'll  never  be  able  to  repay  you  for  all  you've  done 
for  me.  I  don't  want  to  go  back  home.  I  don't  want  them  to 
know  where  I  am  or  anything  about  me.  Mis'  Florence  and 
Arthur  are  welcome  to  everything.  I'm  so  happy  over  the 
thought  that  I'm  not  a  murderer,  that  I  can  forgive  them  all  the 
past.  I'm  going  to  make  some  thing  of  myself,  and  some  day, 
when  I  have  become  as  accomplished  as  Arthur,  I'll  go  home  to 
see  them." 

Mose  was  delighted  with  Jack's  room  and  examined  every- 
thing in  it  with  great  interest,  while  Jack  told  him  all  about  how 
and  by  whom  it  was  furnished. 

"Uh,  huh!"  grunted  Mose,  comically.  "One  little  gal  fixed 
de  cheer  cushion,  an  anudder  leettle  gal  fixed  de  table  kiver. 
Atter  while,  maybe  one  of  'em  gwine  ter  fix  you,  ha!  ha!  You 
soon  gwine  ter  be  a  man  honey,  an'  a  mighty  fine  lookin'  man, 
too.    I  hopes  de  right  one  will  git  tangled  up  in  yo'  heart  strings." 

"Shut  up,"  said  Jack,  in  disguest.  "I've  got  no  use  for 
girls,  and  never  shall  have.  Nellie  Baxter  is  the  best  girl  I  ever 
saw  and  has  helped  me  a  lot  with  my  studies.  So  has  little  Ina 
Nixon.    But  that's  all." 

The  quilts  were  spread  on  a  pile  of  soft  sweet  hay,  where 
old  Mose  stretched  his  weary  limbs.  Jack  was  very  careful  to 
see  that  the  old  man  was  comfortable,  then  he  retired  to  his 
room.  For  a  long  time  he  lay  awake,  his  heart  throbbing  with 
both  pain  and  pleasure,  mixed  with  longing.  He  was  not  satis- 
fied. Father,  mother  and  Dilsie  were  in  heaven,  and  Mose  was 
ready  at  any  time  to  join  them.    Dilsie  had  died  praying  for  him. 

"Hit's  a  great  thing  to  be  ready!  Honey  is  you  ready?" 
Mose  had  asked,  and  the  words  seemed  to  burn  like  coals  of  fire 
into  his  brain.  No!  he  was  not  ready.  He  realized  his  weak- 
ness. He  wanted  something — he  knew  not  what.  He  thought 
with  an  aching  heart  of  his  companions.    They  wanted  him  to  be 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  77 

their  leader.  They  were  looking  to  him  for  help  and  for  encour- 
agement. What  could  he  do  for  them?  Tears  filled  his  eyes. 
He  sat  up  in  bed,  leaned  his  head  in  the  open  window,  looking  up 
into  the  starry  heavens  and  whispered : 

"Oh,  Mama,  Papa  and  Dilsie!  Can't  you  come  and  help 
your  poor  Jack?  Tell  me  how  to  get  this  ache  out  of  my  heart. 
I  ought  to  be  so  happy  tonight,  but  am  miserable.  I  wish  I 
were  good  like  Uncle  Mose.  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  ready  to  meef  you 
in  the  skies.  How  do  folks  get  'ready',  I  wonder?  I  wish  I  knew. 
I'll  ask  Mose  tomorrow." 

At  last  Jack  fell  asleep  and  was  almost  immediately  awaken- 
ed by  his  little  alarm  clock.  He  rose  instantly  and  hurried  to  the 
house  to  light  the  fire  in  the  range,  just  as  he  always  did,  then 
returned  and  fed  the  stock,  being  very  careful  not  to  awaken 
Uncle  Mose,  who  had  been  told  the  night  before  to  go  to  the 
kitchen  for  his  breakfast. 

Jack  didn't  feel  like  work  that  morning,  but  had  never  yet 
lost  a  day  and  was  determined  to  not  lose  this,  the  first  day  of  his 
third  year.  The  "wheel  was  rolling"  when  he  reached  his  place, 
something  that  had  never  before  happened.  The  overseer's  face 
lighted  up  as  he  saw  Jack  and  beckoned  to  him. 

"Got  a  section  for  you  Jack — John  Ames  has  a  position  as 
second  hand  in  another  mill,  and  we  want  to  do  him  the  favor 
of  letting  him  off  without  his  having  to  work  a  notice."  Jack 
gasped  and  his  heart  gave  a  bound. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Jones,"  he  managed  to  stammer,  as  they 
both  walked  toward  the  section  in  question — one  of  the  largest 
in  the  room. 

"Do  you  think  Steve  Laney  would  make  good  in  your  place 
as  head  doffer?"  asked  the  overseer." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  replied  Jack  eagerly.  "He  is  popular 
with  the  boys,  and  has  a  good  honest  heart." 

"He  was  always  considered  the  worst  boy  in  the  mill,  and 
absolutely  impossible  until  the  day  you  came,"  smiled  Jones,  as 
he  thought  of  how  he  had  won  Steve  by  appealing  to  him  to 
"look  after  Jack." 

"I  wish  you  could  have  seen  Steve  and  heard  him  talk  last 
night,"  said  Jack,  and  it  was  all  the  overseer  could  do  to  keep 
from  confessing  that  he  had  seen  and  heard. 

Jack  was  not  surprised  when  an  hour  later  Steve  Laney 
rushed  over  to  him,  grabbed  his  hand,  and  began  to  work  his 


78  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

arm  up  and  down  like  a  pump  handle.  His  cheeks  were  flushed 
and  his  eyes  sparkling  as  he  exclaimed: 

"Golly,  Jack,  we  are  both  promoted!  I  never  expected 
nothin'  for  myself,  but  I  ain't  surprised  at  you." 

"I'm  as  glad  for  you  as  for  myself,  Steve,"  smiled  Jack.  "I 
hope  it  won't  be  our  last  raise,  either. 

"Just  see  what  happens  soon  as  I  make  a  solemn  swear  to 
f oiler  you.  Gosh!  don't  it  make  a  feller  feel  good  to  handle  a 
wrench?  An'  say,  they  want  me  to  learn  to  fix  too.  Jack,  old 
boy,  rip  ahead — I'm  comin'.  I'm  a  long  ways  behind  you — but  if 
I  live  I'll  get  there!  I've  got  a  taste  of  promotion  now  an'  I 
like  the  flaver,"  said  Steve  in  his  funny  way. 

"Yes,  it's  great,"  agreed  Jack.  Then  he  continued:  "Steve, 
our  party  broke  up  very  unexpectedly,  didn't  it?"  And  he  told 
his  friend  all  about  Mose,  but  couldn't  trust  himself  to  speak  of 
Dilsie's  death. 

"Joe  ought  to  have  a  gold  collar  hangin'  thick  with  gold 
medals,  tellin'  of  what  he's  done,"  declared  Steve,  warmly,  and 
expressing  a  desire  to  meet  Uncle  Mose. 

When  Mose  went  to  the  kitchen  for  his  breakfast,  Mrs. 
Baxter  stayed  by  and  talked  to  him.  She  was  pleased  with  his 
courtesy  and  humility,  and  having  heard  from  Jack  that  he  had 
always  been  a  kitchen  servant,  she  promptly  employed  him.  She 
had  long  wanted  just  such  a  person,  but' had  never  been  able  to 
procure  one  who  was  satisfactory. 

Jack  was  worried  at  first,  thinking  that  "Mother"  Baxter 
had  employed  Mose  just  to  save  him  from  expense  and  embar- 
ressment,  but  the  good  woman  finally  convinced  him  that  such 
was  not  the  case,  and  she  looked  on  Mose  almost  as  a  gift  from 
heaven. 

Jack  bought  four  white  duck  suits  for  Mose,  which  made  the 
old  man  wild  with  delight,  and  as  he  hustled  around  in  the  dining 
room  in  his  immaculate  suit,  a  broad  grin  on  his  withered  old 
face,  he  became  a  great  favorite  with  all  the  boarders,  and  a 
butt  for  their  good  natured  jokes.  His  devotion  to  Jack  was 
beautiful  and  touching.  Of  course  the  story  of  his  and  Jack's 
adventures  leaked  out,  with  more  or  less  exaggerations,  and  for 
many  days  was  the  subject  of  village  gossip. 

The  town  papers  published  a  lengthy  account  of  the  affair, 
which  other  papers  copied.  A  week  later  "Mis'  Florence",  with 
white  face  and  trembling  hands  reads  it  in  a  local  paper.     Her 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  79 

guilty  heart  throbbed  with  fear  in  spite  of  the  fact  which  the 
paper  plainly  stated,  that  "Jack  and  Joe  are  great  favorites 
with  the  mill  officials.  The  young  man  is  possessed  of  sterling 
qualities  which  are  fast  pushing  him  to  the  front  in  his  chosen 
profession.  He  has  just  been  promoted  and  the  future  is  full  of 
promise.  The  faithful  Mose  has  been  employed  in  the  hotel 
where  his  young  master  lives,  and  is  now  perfectly  happy." 
Without  a  word  she  handed  the  paper  to  Arthur  and  pointed  to 
the  head  lines : 

"Boy  Lost  For  Tiuo  Years,  Found  by  Old  Servant.  Brought 
Together  By  Boy's  Faithful  Dog." 

Arthur  eagerly  read  the  article,  punctuating  it  with  excla- 
mations of  surprise  and  consternation.  Turning  to  his  mother 
he  said: 

"Well.  I'll  swear !  Do  you  suppose  they'll  stay  there  ?  You 
got  off  light,  mother.  'Unable  to  get  along  with  his  step-mother, 
he  ran  away.'  That's  all  the  reference  there  is  to  your  part  of  it." 
Mis'  Florence  leaned  back  in  her  porch  rocker  and  gazed 
out  over  the  fields  to  where  the  setting  sun  threw  golden  rays 
upon  two  tall  white  tombstones. 

"It  seems  that  he  intends  staying  there.  But,  oh!  Arthur, 
what  will  the  neighbors  say?  We've  led  them  to  believe  that 
Jack  was  in  school  in  Danville."    Arthur  laughed. 

"I've  an  idea  that  they  half  doubted  it,  and  that  this  won't 
be  much  of  a  surprise  to  anyone." 

"Do  you  know,  Arthur,  I'm  getting  tired  of  it  all.  I'm 
sorry,  sorry.  Let's  write  to  Jack  and  tell  him  to  come  home." 
"The  devil !  No.  It's  too  late.  You  ought  to  have  thought 
of  that  long  ago.  No,  I  won't  stand  for  no  squealing  now. 
Wouldn't  you  look  nice  confessing  that  you  had  gone  thrugh 
your  dead  husband's  pockets,  stole  and  destroyed  his  last  will 
and  testament?"  sneeringly.  It  was  evident  that  Arthur  held 
the  whip  now. 

The  woman  had  lost  much  of  her  good  looks,  and  dark 
shadows  lay  around  her  eyes.  Her  expression  was  that  of  one 
haunted  by  remorse.  She  did  not  resent  her  son's  words,  but 
shrank  from  him  as  if  he  had  dealt  her  a  blow. 

"Arthur,  my  boy,  don't  hurt  me  so!    All  that  I  have  ever 

done  was  for  your  sake — because  I  worshipped  you,"  she  faltered. 

"Well,  darn  it,  has  your  love  grown  less  ?   What  do  you  want 

to  flunk  now  for?     You  keep  me  worried  to  death.     You  have 


80  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

lost  all  the  spunk  and  spirit  you  ever  had — the  qualities  I  so 
much  admired,"  he  growled,  pacing  the  porch  in  front  of  her. 

"Arthur,  did  you  ever  see  a  ghost?"  she  asked.  The  young 
man  paused  with  hands  thrust  into  his  pockets  and  looked  at  her 
anxiously.    Well  did  he  remember  the  ghost  of  the  island. 

"Mother,  what  are  you  saying?  Have  you  seen  one?"  he 
almost  whispered- 

"No,  I  haven't  seen  one,  but  all  night  long  I  can  hear 
whispers  in  my  ear,  'Where  is  my  child,  Flora?  Where  is  my 
child?'  Arthur  I  have  betrayed  a  good  man's  trust  and  shall 
never  have  another  moment's  peace  unless  Jack  gets  his  rights." 

"Well,  whenever  you  make  a  move  like  that,  I'm  gone  for 
good,"  snarled  Arthur. 

"No  danger,  my  boy;  it's  too  late,  as  you  say,"  she  replied. 
She  would  meet  her  God  and  be  eternally  damned  before  she'd 
lose  her  boy,  for  whom  her  soul  was  steeped  in  guilt. 

CHAPTER  X. 

'  'Jack,  the  superintendent  wants  to  see  you  in  his  office, ' '  said 
Mr.  Jones,  on  Saturday  morning  after  the  party.  Jack  was 
right  up  with  his  work  and  hurried  out  to  the  big  office,  where 
Mr.  Nixon  greeted  him  with  a  smile. 

"How  are  you  feeling  my  boy?  Getting  along  with  your 
section  O.  K.,  I  suppose?" 

"Am  feeling  fine,  thank  you  sir,  and  as  to  my  section, — 
come  and  see,"  and  the  boy's  face  glowed  with  pride. 

"I  have  seen  it  Jack — and  am  proud  of  you,"  smiled  the  good 
man.  "I  didn't  see  a  bit  of  clean  waste  or  a  bobbin  on  your 
floor  yesterday.  'A  new  broom  sweeps  clean.'  I've  no  idea  you 
can  keep  things  in  such  apple-pie  order  as  you  have  begun  with. 
Just  how  did  you  manage  to  make  such  a  noticeable  difference  in 
one  day?"  Jack  blushed: 

"Why  sir,  it  was  easy.  I  managed  to  speak  to  every  spinner 
as  I  worked  or  walked  among  them,  and,  asked  each  one  for 
his  or  her  help  in  making  our  section  the  nicest  in  the  room.  I 
explained  to  them  the  necessity  of  keeping  all  clean  waste  and 
bobbins  from  the  floor — and — and — I  think  sir,  they  all  seemed 
interested  in  me,  and  were  glad  to  do  as  I  asked." 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt  my  boy.  But  there's  one  thing,  Jack, 
be  kind  and  courteous  always  to  your  help,  but  don't  get  too 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  81 

familiar  with  them  in  the  mill.     Keep  your  dignity  and  hold 
their  respect." 

"I'll  do  my  best,  sir,"  returned  Jack. 

"I  know  you  will,  my  boy,  and  I  had  no  intention  of  speaking 
of  such  a  thing.  I  sent  for  you  because  I  wanted  a  heart-to- 
heart  talk  with  you." 

Jack  looked  at  Mr.  Nixon  very  much  puzzled.  Mr.  Nixon 
fingered  a  paper-weight  on  his  desk  and  looked  through  the  open 
window.    Presently  he  spoke  with  great  feeling: 

"My  boy,  I  shall  always  be  thankful  that  God  sent  you  to  me. 
He  must  have  guided  your  footsteps.  I  have  heard  all  about  you 
from  Baxter.  Mose  is  a  wonderful  old  man.  Jack,  I  have  a 
confession  to  make.  Having  some  curiosity  to  see  how  you  would 
conduct  your  party  last  Thursday  night  I  watched  and  listened. 
If  the  devil  tempted  me  to  do  it,  here's  where  he'll  get  whipped 
at  his  own  game.    Good  shall  come  of  it. 

"I  have  never  been  so  thrilled,  as  with  your  appeal  to  the 
boys,  or  so  touched  as  with  their  plea  for  help  to  be  something. 
Jack,  how  are  you  going  to  help  them?  Have  you  thought  of  a 
way?  Something  must  be  done.  It's  up  to  you  and  me.  Count 
on  me  to  help  you  work  out  any  plan  you  suggest,  that  will 
help  them."  Jack's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  but  he  manfully  sup- 
pressed them : 

"Mr.  Nixon — I — I — don't  know  what  to  say,  I  shall  never 
forget  how  good  you  are  to  me.  If  I  ever  amount  to  anything  it 
will  be  because  your  good  heart  was  opened  to  me,  and  because 
you  gave  me  a  chance.  And — and  how  can  I  help  the  boys? 
They  will  meet  with  me  again  next  Thursday  night,  and  I  don't 
know  what  to  tell  them.    If  we  could  have  a  night  school — " 

"We'll  have  it,  Jack!" 

"And  some  music — " 

"How  about  a  string  band?  I'll  get  every  boy  an  instru- 
ment who  will  attend  the  night  school — and  furnish  a  music 
teacher." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Nixon,  the  very  thing!  Kegular  studies  two  or 
three  evenings  a  week  from  7  to  9,  and  musical  instruments  to  be 
given  at  Xmas  to  all  who  stick." 

"Capital!  And  the  instruments  shall  be  on  hand  and  used 
occasionally  to  stimulate  ambition,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Nixon,  while 
Jack's  cheeks  flushed  with  pleasure. 


82  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"You  can  go  now,  Jack.  Keep  all  this  to  yourself  until 
Thursday  night,  and  see  if  your  eloquence  can  win  the  boys  to 
hard  study.  If  you  can  do  that,  it  will  be  a  noble  work,  and  one 
over  which  angels  will  rejoice." 

Jack  went  out  with  a  light  heart  and  a. light  step.  His  mind 
was  in  a  whirl.  He  blushed  over  the  thought  that  Mr.  Nixon 
had  heard  his  "speech"  and  was  glad  that  he  didn't  know  it  at 
the  time.  While  he  worked  at  his  tasks  his  mind  was  busy.  How 
glad  he  was  that  a  night  school  was  possible.  Nellie  Baxter 
would  leave  in  September  to  attend  college,  and  Jack  wondered 
how  he  would  ever  get  along  without  her.  Ned  was  not  much 
help,  and  besides  he  always  had  something  else  to  do,  or  some- 
where to  go.    Ina  would  not  visit  him  after  Nellie  left. 

Thursday  evening  the  boys  promptly  invaded  the  barn. 

"What's  the  program,  Jack?  Have  you  thought  of  any- 
thing? We're  ready.  Speech!  Speech!"  were  the  questions  and 
exclaimations  that  greeted  him,  as  he  stepped  from  his  room  and 
closed  the  door.  Lanterns  were  again  swung  from  the  rafters 
and  two  long  benches  furnished  seats. 

"Not  so  fast,  boys — give  a  fellow  time,"  laughed  Jack. 
"Have  any  of  you  thought  of  anything?  Do  you  know  any  way 
in  which  we  can  spend  an  hour  or  two  together  each  evening, 
in  a  way  that  will  be  mutually  beneficial?" 

"An  hour  or  two  spent  with  you  Jack,  is  bound  to  help  us ;  I 
ain't  felt  like  the  same  kid  since  last  Thursday  night.  You 
pumped  somethin'  into  me  that's  got  me  puzzled,"  said  Steve 
Laney. 

"Aw,  shut  up,  Steve,  you're  jest  full  of  importance,"  grinned 
one.  "Steve's  got  one  o'  them  up-stairs  rooms  for  hisn',  an'  it's 
fixed  up  nice  as  his  sister's — only — his  dresser  aint  ornamented 
with  bows  and  hairpins  an'  powder  an'  sich."  Tommy  Dawkins 
spoke : 

"I  told  ma  about  Jack's  room  an'  how  bad  I  wanted  one,  an'  she 
said:  'Tommy  Dawkins,  you  air  the  limit!  What  does  a  boy 
want  with  a  room  all  to  hisself  ?'  But  blest  if  my  ma  didn't  give 
me  an'  brother  Bill  one  to  ourselves  up  stairs,  an'  we  promised 
to  keep  it  cleaned  up  to  save  her  legs." 

"I  heard  the  Super  offer  ma  a  bigger  house  yesterday.  He 
said  it  was  better  to  have  more  room  than  not  enough,  and  said 
it  was  a  great  thing  for  boys  to  have  a  decent  hole  to  crawl  in 
an'  to  invite  company  to."    Another  chimed  in : 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  83 

"Well,  Golly!  I  heard  pa  an'  ma  say  today  at  dinner,  that 
the  Super,  wanted  them  to  take  a  larger  house  so  we  boys  could 
have  a  room  to  ourselves.  He  said  boys  should  be  considered 
same  as  girls.  An'  he  'lowed  that  if  they  had  dens  of  they  own, 
boys  wouldn't  drift  away  from  home  so  much." 

"Ain't  it  queer?"  exclaimed  Steve,  "just  a  week  ago  we  was 
sliced  in  like  a  sandwich,  just  any  old  way,  an'  just  as  soon  as 
we  make  up  our  minds  to  be  somethin'  an  do  somethin',  things 
begin  to  tumble  our  way.    Ain't  it  queer?" 

Jack  smiled.  Mr.  Nixon  had  not  told  him  how  he  had  been 
trying  to  plead  for  the  boys,  but  he  knew. 

"Well,  boys,  how  about  a  night  school?"  he  asked.  No  one 
spoke.  Evidently  such  a  thing  had  not  entered  their  minds. 
They  stared  at  him.    Jack  continued: 

"We  can  have  one  if  we  wish.  It  will  mean  something  to 
set  our  hearts  to  the  task  of  improving  our  heads.  It  will  take 
spunk,  grit,  determination  and  the  qualities  that  go  to  make 
good  soldiers  and  strong  men.  I've  been  talking  with  Mr. 
Nixon.  He  will  furnish  a  teacher  and  help  us  every  way  he  can. 
How  many  boys  will  volunteer  to  join  the  night  school?  I  am 
glad  of  such  a  chance  myself." 

Steve  Laney  rose  and  stepped  forward.  "I'm  with  you, 
Jack.  It  means  no  picture  shows,  an'  no  loafin'  the  streets — but 
I  don't  give  a  hang — I'll  stick  to  vou  or  bust — lead  on — I'll 
follow." 

"All  in  favor  of  attending  a  night  school  stand  up,"  cried 
Jack,  and  he  was  such  a  leader,  so  magnetic,  so  persuasive,  that 
every  boy  promptly  rose.     Afterward  one  said: 

"I  didn't  mean  to  stand  up,  but  Jack  was  lookin'  right  at 
me,  an'  'peared  like  somethin'  jest  jerked  me  up." 

"Now  listen.  Do  you  all  solemnly  promise  to  stick  to  busi- 
ness?— no  flunking?" 

"We  promise,"  came  the  response. 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  something  good.  Every  boy  who  sticks 
will  be  presented  with  a  musical  instrument  Xmas — a  violin, 
banjo,  guitar,  or  whatever  you  wish,  and  music  will  be  taught 
us  free."    There  was  great  rejoicing  over  this  announcement. 

Mose  came  from  the  hotel  with  a  big  bucket  of  ice  cold 
lemonade  and  a  big  waiter  of  cake  and  served  it  with  the  com- 
pliments of  Mrs.  Baxter. 


84  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

Joe  did  many  stunts  that  called  forth  bursts  of  delighted 
applause,  and  the  boys  left  Jack,  happy  and  full  of  hope. 

The  night  school,  taught  in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  hall,  was  a 
success  from  the  beginning.  Many  men  and  several  girls,  attend- 
ed; prizes  were  offered  and  competition,  always  a  great  spur, 
kept  them  busy  and  interested.  The  months  rolled  on.  Nellie 
had  gone  and  Xmas  was  again  drawing  near. 

Xmas  Eve  Jack  received  a  card  from  the  express  office 
stating  that  a  large  box  was  there  for  him. 

"There  must  be  some  mistake,"  said  Jack  to  Mose.  "I 
haven't  ordered  anything  and  I  know  that  no  one  has  sent  me 
anything." 

"Bettah  run  erlong  an'  see,  lil  Marse ;  I  'spec  it  am  old  Santa 
fur  shore.  Maby  Miss  Nellie  in  dat  box,  ha !  ha !  I  seed  how  she 
look  when  she  tole  you  good  bye.  I  knows  sh's  des'  a  little 
older'n  you  is — 'bout  a  year — but  dat  ain'  nuffin.  Go  long  boy, 
an'  git  yo'  Xmas,"  and  Mose  shook  with  laughter  as  he  watched 
the  red  blood  mount  to  Jack's  white  forehead. 

"Now  Mose,  you  know  I  don't  like  girls,"  pleaded  Jack,  very 
much  embarrassed. 

"You'll  git  over  dat,  bime  by,  honey."  An'  whoop-pee !  when 
you  do  git  to  be  a  man  you  gwine  ter  be  des  lak  de  Armstrongs. 
An'  when  you  falls  in  love  fur  shore,  it's  gwin  ter  des  saterate 
plum  through  ye.  Lawd!  sich  courtin'  as  de  Armstrongs  could 
do.  Dey  ain't  none  of  'em  lef  now.  Your  ma's  last  brother 
died  with  a  broke  hart  cause  de  gal  he  loved  turn  him  down  fur 
a  rich  old  man." 

"Well,  I'll  never  let  a  girl  give  me  any  trouble,"  retorted 
Jack,  and  Mose  laughed  heartily. 

"Well  go  on  an'  git  yo'  Xmas.  chile,"  he  insisted,  and  Jack 
hitched  one  of  the  horses  to  the  buggy,  and  drove  to  town. 

He  returned  in  about  an  hour,  and  Mose  was  astonished  to 
see  what  a  long  box  he  carried.  It  was  about  six  feet  long  and 
four  feet  wide,  but  not  very  deep. 

"If  it  wuz  deeper  it  would  look  des  lak  a  coffin  box,"  thought 
Mose,  as  he  hurried  out  to  meet  Jack. 

"Lil'  Marse,  what  is  it?" 

Don't  have  the  least  idea,  Mose,  and  somehow  I  don't  want 
to  open  it.  I'm  just  trembling.  Feel  like  something  has  hap- 
pened— or  is  going  to  happen.  Oh,  Mose,  what  do  you  suppose 
it  is?    It  came  from  Chicago." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  85 

"Bes'  and  quickest  way  to  fin'  out  is  to  open  de  box,"  said 
Mose,  as  Jack  put  the  box  on  the  barn  floor." 

"You  open  it,  Mose,  somehow  I  don't  want  to.  I'm  afraid. 
I  feel  like  I'm  at  a  funeral."  Mose  was  a  little  affected  by  Jack's 
nervousness,  but  made  no  sign.  He  got  a  hammer,  and  lifted  the 
boards.  All  they  could  see  was  packing.  This  was  soon  removed, 
then  there  was  a  sheet  of  felt  which  covered  the  entire  contents. 

Jack  was  on  one  side,  of  the  box,  and  Mose  on  the  other. 
Jack  hesitated  a  moment  and  with  trembling  hands  drew  away 
the  last  covering.  For  one  moment  he  gazed  breathless  with 
amazement.  Mose,  too,  was  speechelss  and  leaned  forward  with 
clasped  hands.  "It's  Mama !  A  portrait  of  my  beautiful,  angel 
mother,"  sobbed  Jack.  "Oh,  where  could  it  have  come  from," 
and  with  tender  care  he  lifted  the  lovely  picture  in  its  massive 
oak  and  gold  frame,  leaned  his  face  against  it  and  wept. 

"Praise  de  Lawd!  Honey  doan  ye  cry — 'pears  to  me  you 
ort  to  be  rejoicin.  Hit  des  lak  Mis'  Evleyn,  an'  you, — you  ain't 
noticed  dat  you's  on  dar  too,  is  you  ?  But  whar  did  it  cum  f rum  ? 
Dat  shore  am  won  puzzle." 

The  portrait  was  in  natural  colors,  and  though  Jack  was  not 
and  artist  he  could  see  that  it  was  very  expensive  and  a  great 
triumph  in  art. 

"Mother,  my  mother !  Dear  angel  mother,(  did  you  send  me 
this  from  the  skies?"  Jack  murmured,  pressing  kiss  after  kiss 
on  the  beautiful  face,  while  Mose  ever  and  anon,  exclaimed, 
"Praise  de  Lawd !" 

The  picture  showed  Jack  and  his  mother,  when  he  was  about 
three  years  old.  She  was  dressed  in  white  and  her  abundant 
golden  hair  tastefully  arranged.  She  had  just  risen  from  a  rustic 
seat  on  the  lawn  and  was  meeting  Jack  with  outstretched  hands, 
and  a  world  of  mother-love  shining  on  her  smiling  face  as  Jack 
barefooted  and  in  gingham  rompers,  came  forward  with  his 
straw  hat  full  of  fluffy  young  chickens.  In  the  background  were 
June  roses,  and  cape  jessamine, — with  spots  of  golden  sunlight 
sifting  through  the  giant  oak  trees. 

"Where,  oh  where,  did  it  come  from?"  Jack  kept  repeating. 

"It  shore  am  strange,"  agreed  Mose.  "I  'members  mighty 
well  when  dat  pictur  wuz  tuck,  but  Mis'  Evelyn  los'  it,  or  some- 
body stole  it,  an  it  never  could  be  foun'.  She  use  ter  lay  things 
down  an'  den  forgit  whar  she  put  'em,  but  de  house  wuz  sarched 
high  an'  low,  off  an'  on,  long  as  she  lived,  fur  dat  pictur,  an'  it 


86  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

des  wern't  dar,  nowhare.  But  praise  de  Lawd!  Hit  des  went 
off  an'  growed  a  heap  bigger  an'  den  cum  to  you  fur  a  Xmas 
gif !     Hit's  de  Unseen  Han'  honey,  a  workin'  fur  ye." 

"An'  Mose,  I'm  not  worthy.  Oh!  I  wish  I  were  good  and 
could  feel  like  you  do  about  dying.  But  I'd  be  afraid  to  die," 
and  Jack  shivered.  "This  is  too  beautiful  to  keep  in  the  barn — 
but  oh,  I  want  to  keep  it  in  my  room,  where  I  can  look  at  it  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning  and  the  last  thing  at  night — my  beauti- 
ful mother!" 

""Well,  chile,  keep  it  dar.  Yo'  room  des  as  nice  as  any  in 
de  hotel.  An'  yo'  kin  git  a  purty  scarf  an'  kiver  it  durin'  de  day, 
to  keep  all  de  dus'  off." 

One  of  the  little  Baxter  children,  with  hands  full  of  Xmas 
cookies,  came  to  the  door  and  called: 

"Here's  a  letter  for  you,  Jack."  Mose  went  forward  and 
took  the  letter,  and  the  child  hurried  back. 

"Mo'  supprises,  maybe,  lil'  Marse,"  he  grinned.  Jack  took 
the  portrait  into  his  room  and  tenderly  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

"Maybe  this  will  explain  the  picture,"  he  said,  taking  the 
letter.  "No — why — it's  from  home — they've  found  out  where 
I  am — somebody  has ;  maybe  it's  from  Bud  Iugram." 

Jack  tore  the  letter  open,  read  a  few  lines  then  turned  to 
the  signature  which  was,  "Your  heart-broken  Step-mother,"  then 
he  staggered  to*  a  pile  of  sweet  hay  and  sank  down  upon  it, 
exchaiming : 

"Mose,  it's  from  Mis'  Florence!     Listen." 

"Dear  Jack:  I  found  out  through  the  papers  where  you 
had  drifted,  and  I  am  glad  that  fate  has  been  kind  to  you.  Arthur 
is  well,  but  refuses  to  forgive  you.  A  few  weeks  ago,  while 
turning  the  leaves  of  an  old  musty  book,  I  found  a  photagraph 
of  your  mother  and  you.  I  remember  how  you  grieved  over 
the  loss  of  your  mother's  enlarged  portrait  and  I  have  had  one 
made  for  you  which  I  feel  that  you  will  prize  even  more  highly. 
I  ordered  the  artist  to  ship  it  so  it  would  reach  you  Xmas  eve. 

"Jack,  I  am  a  lonely,  sorrowing  woman.  Arthur  is  growing 
wilder  and  more  reckless  every  day,  and — he — is  not  kind  and 
loving  as  he  used  to  be.  My  heart  goes  out  to  you  with  longing 
and  regret.  I  wish  it  were  possible  for  you  to  come  home  and 
stay,  but  it  would  be  disagreeable  to  us  both,  and  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Tell  Mose  that  Sallie  has  another  baby.  They  are 
all  well. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  87 

"Hope  you'll  enjoy  Xmas,  and  that  you  will  forgive 

"Your  heartbroken  step-mother, 

"Flora  LeGrande." 

"That  sounds  sincere,  Mose — she  must  indeed  be  changed," 
said  Jack  softly.  "How  good  of  her  to  send  me  such  a  thought- 
ful present.    She  is  sorry — I  know  she  is." 

With  his  old  face  quivering  with  emotion  and  his  body 
swaying  to  and  fro,  Mose  softly  sang  in  a  deep,  rich  voice : 

"Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow. 
Praise  him  all  creatures  here  below. 
Praise  him  above,  ye  heavenly  host; 
Praise  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost." 

CHAPTER  XL 

Christmas,  with  its  beautiful  Sunday  school  Christmas  tree, 
had  come  again,  but  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  program 
was  the  awarding  of  prizes  to  those  who  had  been  faithful  in  the 
night  school.  The  spinning  room  boys,  urged  on  by  the  energetic 
spirits  of  Jack  and  Steve,  who  were  the  recognized  leaders,  had 
made  a  record.  The  teachers  were  proud  of  their  classes  and  in 
short-to-the-point  talks,  commended  the  students  for  their  regu- 
lar attendance  and  complimented  them  on  their  progress. 

Even  grown  men,  who  the  past  June  could  not  read  a  word 
or  write  their  names,  were  now  able  to  do  both.  Jack  and  Steve 
came  in  for  a  big  share  of  the  praise.  They  had  become  close 
friends  and  each  delighted  to  see  the  other  honored.  All  the 
boys  of  the  night  school  between  the  ages  of  15  and  18  were  pre- 
sented with  string  instruments,  and  when  Mr.  Nixon  handed  out 
the  last  of  the  20  pieces,  he  looked  around  in  a  comical  way, 
scratched  his  head  and  said : 

"I  didn't  know  these  young  rascals  had  it  in  for  me  like  this! 
I  never  dreamed  when  I  made  this  proposition,  that  more  than 
a  half  dozen  boys  would  win.  That  was  about  the  size  of  my 
pocket.  When  I  realized  what  I  was  up  against,  I  aopealed 
to  the  resident  for  help,  telling  him  that  I  was  in  the  middle  of 
a  bad  fix !    And  what  do  you  suppose  he  said?    Why,  just  this : 

'  'Nixon,  the  Company  will  back  you  in  anything  that  per- 
tains to  the  welfare  of  our  operatives.  Money  spent  for  educa- 
tional purposes  is  well  invested.  It's  the  reading  class  of  help  that 
gives  best  service.     They  intelligently  perform  their  duties,  and 


88  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

have  higher  ideals;  they  don't  look  upon  Capital  as  a  monster, 
eager  for  their  life  blood,  but  cheerfuly  perform  their  tasks, 
accept  the  wages  agreed  upon,  live  honestly,  walk  uprightly  and 
are  held  in  high  esteem  by  their  overseers.  That's  alright, 
Nixon, — go  ahead.  Educate  the  people.  The  company  will  stand 
at  your  back  in  anything  you  wish  to  do  for  our  employees.' : 
This  brought  great  applause  from  the  packed  church. 

Steve,  Jack  and  four  other  boys  received  violins.  The  rest 
received  mandolins,  banjos,  harps  and  guitars.  Prof.  Austin,  from 
the  city  had  been  employed  to  teach  the  boys  music,  and  after  the 
holidays  this  part  of  their  education  would  begin  in  earnest.  They 
would  meet  two  evenings  every  week.  The  regular  night  school 
met  three  times  a  week,  so  Saturday  evening  was  all  the  time  the 
boys  had  to  "throw  away."  They  soon  became  so  enraptured 
with  their  music,  that  even  on  Saturday  nights  they  preferred 
to  practice,  rather  than  loaf  the  streets,  or  attend  shows. 

Now,  let  us  pay  a  little  visit  to  "Mis'  Florence."  A  few  days 
after  Christmas  Arthur  came  striding  into  her  presence,  almost 
drunk  and  in  a  terrible  passion.  Taking  an  open  letter  from 
his  pocket  he  dashed  it  at  her  and  exclaimed: 

"So  you've  actually  written  to  that  young  devil!  And  what 
kind  of  a  Christmas  present  did  you  send  him?  I've  a  good  notion 
to  visit  the  darned  fool  and  pay  him  back  for  the  scar  I  carry!" 
and  Arthur  clenched  his  fist  and  struck  the  center  table  furiously. 
"Mis'  Florence"  saw  and  realized  that  her  boy  was  under  the  in- 
fluence of  whiskey.  A  great  terror  sized  her  heart  and  she  stag- 
gered to  her  feet,  the  letter  clutched  in  her  hand,  and  her  face 
white  with  anguish. 

"Oh,  my  boy,  my  boy !  You  have  been  drinking.  God  have 
mercy  on  me — this  is  more  than  I  can  bear !"  she  cried. 

"Take  a  little  drink,  mumsey,  and  you'll  get  back  your 
nerve,"  and  Arthur  drew  a  bottle  from  his  pocket  and  shook  it  in 
her  face,  as  she  shrank  from  him.  He  then  caught  sight  of  the 
letter,  and  commanded  her  to  "read  it  out,"  and  in  mortal  terror 
she  obeyed: 

"Dear  Mrs.  Florence : 

"I  prize  the  present  you  sent  me  more  than  anything  I  ever 
possessed.  It  certainly  was  a  surprise,  and  when  I  look  at  it  my 
heart  is  melted  with  tenderness.  I  cherish  no  ill  will  against 
you  or  Arthur.    My  father  had  a  perfect  right  to  do  as  he  pleased 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  89 

with  his  property.    He  gave  it  to  you,  and  you  are  wecome  to  it." 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Arthur.  "Wonder  what  he'd  say  if  he 
knew?  How  does  it  make  a  person  feel,  mumsey,  to  go  through 
dead  men's  clothes  and  destroy  wills?  Ha,  ha!  Say,  don't 
glare  at  me  like  that,  darn  it !  What's  the  matter  with  you,  any- 
how?" "Mis'  Florence"  bit  her  lips,  and  her  black  eyes  snapped 
with  some  of  their  old-time  spirit : 

"Arthur,  I  don't  know  how  people  feel  after  destroying  wills. 
I—" 

"Oh,  you  don't?"  sneeringly. 

"No,  I  do  not,"  very  emphatically. 

"That's  right!  A  lie  or  two  more  or  less  doesn't  matter. 
But  go  on  with  the  reading!"  And  Arthur  sank  in  a  chair  and 
waved  his  hand  imperiously.  "Go  on,  I  say!'  and  the  poor 
mother   had  no  alternative  but  to  obey: 

"I'm  sorry  Arthur  is  still  bitter  against  me.  Surely,  I  suf- 
fered enough  during  the  two  years  that  I  thought  he  was  dead 
by  my  hand.  If  any  one  ever  bitterly  repented  for  a  rash,  mad 
act,  I  have — but  I  must  confess  that  until  now,  I  have  been  bitter 
against  you. 

"  'It  may  all  be  for  the  best  at  last.  Certainly  I  am  getting 
along  better  than  if  I  had  stayed  at  home.  I  can't  regret  coming 
here.  My  life  is  full,  and  happy.  For  several  months — ever  since 
Mose  came  and  told  me  about  Aunt  Dilsie's  death, — I  have  hun- 
gred  and  thirsted  for  that  sweet  and  simple  trust  in  God's  good- 
ness that  made  her  death  triumphant,  but  peace  would  not  come 
into  my  heart. 

"  'I  know  now,  it  was  because  I  had  an  unforgiving  spirit — 
I  had  envy  and  jealousy  in  my  heart.  I  was  bitter  against  you, 
more  than  against  Arthur.  My  heart  was  broken  when  I  looked 
on  the  priceless  gift  you  sent,  and  while  Uncle  Mose  san  Traise 
God  from  Whom  All  Blessings  Flow'  I  was  emptied  of  self,  and 
filled  with  the  spirit  of  Christ.  Now,  sweet  peace  abides  with 
me.'  " 

A  deep  snore  came  from  the  depths  of  the  chair,  and  "Mis' 
Florence"  paused,  held  her  breath  for  a  moment,  then  whispered : 
"Thank  God,  he's  asleep !" 

Softly  leaving  the  room  she  went  to  her  bed-room  and  locked 


90  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

herself  in.     Falling  on  her  knees  by  the  bed,  she  buried  her  hot 
face  in  her  hands. 

"How  can  I  bear  it — Oh  God,  how  can  I  bear  it?  For  love 
of  my  child  I've  steeped  my  soul  in  guilt;  and  he,  knowing  my 
sins,  dares  taunt  me  with  them!  Ive  lost  his  love — he  doesn't 
even  respect  me — he  is  drunk — going  straight  to  the  devil — fol- 
lowing in  my  footsteps!"  she  wailed  brokenly. 

"God  pity  me!  I'm  ruined,  wretched,  and  undone!  Jack 
has  forgiven  me — oh,  God,  won't  you?"  Instantly  there  came 
the  haunting  voice  of  conscience : 

"Flora,  where  is  my  child?  Give  Jack  his  rights!"  and  she 
answered : 

"It's  too  late — I  can't — I  can't!  Besides  Jack  is  happier 
where  he  is,  he  says  so  himself.  No  ,no,  I  can't  undo  what  has 
been  done — Arthur  would  leave  me — he  might  kill  me !  Oh,  my 
boy,  my  boy !  to  think  I  should  ever  live  to  see  the  day  when  you 
would  sneer  in  my  face." 

Sallie  was  busy  in  another  part  of  the  house,  and  her  voice 
rose  in  song: 

"Ole  Satan  got  a  mortgage  on  yo'  soul 
De  Lawd'll  pay  it  off  ef  ye  turn ; 
Yo  betah  put  yo  'name  on  de  ransome  roll 
Don't  yer  gwine  ter  go  to  hell  en  burn !" 
"Mis'  Florence"  stuck  her  fingers  in  her  ears  to  shut  out  the 
chorus : 

"Blow,  Gabul,  blow! 

My  sins  done  washed  away. 
De  Lawd's  done  tuck  my  mawgage  up — 
I  ain't  got  nothing  to  pay." 

"Mis'  Florence"  was  now  reaping  as  she  had  sown.  She 
had  sinned,  now  she  must  suffer.  To  have  lost  the  love  and 
respect  of  her  idolized  boy,  was  the  most  terrible  punishment 
that  could  have  overtaken  her,  yet  it  was  only  the  natural  out- 
come of  her  own  folly.  It  was  not  the  last  time  she  saw  ner 
boy  come  home  drunk — and  not  the  last  time  that  she  went  down 
on  her  knees  in  agony  before  her  God.  But  she  did  not  approach 
Him  in  an  acceptable  manner.  She  did  not  want  to  make  resti- 
tution, or,  if  she  did  wish  to  do  so,  her  fear  of  Arthur  held  her  in 
check. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  91 

The  news  of  Jack's  wonderful  present  was  soon  broadcast, 
and  his  friends  from  all  over  the  village  came  to  see  and  admire 
the  lovely  portrait.  Even  Mr.  Jones  and  Superintendent  Nixon 
had  come  and  stood  before  it  with  bare  heads  and  dim  eyes  as 
Jack  drew  back  the  pretty  scarf  which  covered  it. 

The  weeks  and  months,  each  more  or  less  alike,  lengthened 
into  years.  The  night  school  was  kept  up  all  the  time  except 
through  July  and  August,  when  the  different  churches  held  their 
annual  protracted  meetings.  But  even  during  these  months, 
though  Jack  was  a  faithful  church  worker,  he  did  not  neglect  his 
studies.  It  was  astonishing  how  many  odd  moments  he  found 
in  which  to  satisfy  his  craving  for  knowledge.  The  progress  of 
all  the  night  school  students  was  a  subject  of  much  comment. 

"The  Boys'  Band"  was  beginning  to  attract  attention,  and 
receive  compliments.  Prof.  Austin  had  given  several  concerts 
in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  hall  and  the  boys  had  acquitted  themselves 
with  great  credit.  At  such  times  Superintendent  Nixon  was 
almost  beside  himself,  with  joy  and  pride  ,and  made  rousing 
speeches,  in  which  he  never  failed  to  point  to  Jack  and  declare 
that  he  was  the  inspiration — the  leader,  in  this  move  for  edu- 
cation. 

"Little  did  I  think,"  Mr.  Nixon  would  say,  "that  the  little 
pale-faced,  delicate,  hungry  boy,  who  came  to  my  office  window 
a  few  years  ago,  pleading  for  work,  would  cause  such  a  revolution 
for  good  in  our  community.  There's  not  a  boy  in  the  village  who 
is  not  better  through  his  influence.  Joe,  too,  has  contributed 
much  to  the  pleasure  of  us  all,  and  is  a  living  proof  of  what  love 
and  kindness  may  accomplish,  even  with  brutes.  Mose,  the  dear 
old  faithful,  slavery  negro,  whose  devotion  to  his  little  master 
caused  him  to  leave  home  and  children,  and  who  for  two  long 
weary  years  traveled  over  the  Carolinas  in  search  of  the  boy 
he  had  nursed  from  infancy,  is  loved  by  every  man,  woman  and 
child  in  the  village.  Though  70  years  old,  Mose  is  still  hale  and 
hearty;  I  hope  he'll  live  to  be  as  old  as  Methusalah.  But  when 
he  does  fold  his  toil-hardened  hands  across  the  most  faithful 
heart  that  ever  beat — a  heart  as  pure  and  stainless  as  any  that 
ever  beat  beneath  a  fairer  skin — he  should  have  a  snow  white 
marble  monument  erected  to  his  memory,  so  tall  that  it  would 
pierce  the  skies,  and  on  that  monument  should  be  given  a  com- 
plete history  of  his  life,  that  coming  generations,  both  white  and 
colored,  might  read  and  be  thrilled  with  his  greatness !" 


92 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 


This  would  bring  down  the  house  with  applause,  while  eyes 
were  streaming  with  tears.  Old  Mose,  on  a  back  seat,  would  rise 
and  bow  his  thanks,  and  say  in  a  trembling  old  voice : 

"Mars  Nixon,  thankee — but  I  ain't  done  nuffin  to  desarve  no 
sich!  I  des  a  po'  ignerant  niggah  wid  mo'  love  in  my  ha'rt  den 
sense  in  my  head.  'Deed,  I'se  been  a  bad  niggah.  Des  bury  me 
by  my  Dilsie  when  I  die — dat's  all  I  axe.  Des  give  dat  muniment 
to  po'  ole  Joe  what  brung  me  to  lil  Marse,  at  las',  when  I  had  gin 
him   up  and  started  home." 


JACK  AND  STEVE 

Jack  was  twenty  years  old  when  the  spinning  room  second 
hand  took  sick  and  he  was  asked  to  fill  the  man's  place  until  he 
could  return  to  work.  The  poor  man  died,  and  as  Jack  had  given 
the  very  best  of  satisfaction,  he  was  promptly  given  the 
position. 

Steve  Laney  had  for  several  months  been  spare  section  hand, 
and  he  was  given  Jack's  section.  There  were  not  two  happier 
boys  in  Georgia  when  this  promotion  came,  though  they  were 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  93 

grieved  over  the  death  of  the  good  man  which  brought  the 
change  about. 

This  was  to  be  an  eventful  Summer  for  Jack  and  Steve.  Early 
in  May  the  Junior  Baraca  Class  had  elected  Jack  president,  and 
Steve  secretary  and  treasurer.  The  class  was  growing  in  num- 
bers and  doing  great  good.  They  took  special  collections  for  the 
sick  and  afflicted,  and  each  week  a  committee  visited  those  who 
were  in  distress.  Mr.  Nixon  was  the  beloved  teacher  of  the 
class,  and  put  his  whole  soul  into  the  work.  He  knew  that  these 
boys  were  "the  salt  of  the  earth" — that  in  the  future  when  they 
should  go  out  to  fill  their  places  in  the  world,  they  would  be  an 

honor  to  the  mill  town  of  A as  well  as  an  honor  to  their 

Maker.  The  whole  village  was  thrilled  with  the  good  influences 
brought  to  bear  upon  it  through  the  works  of  the  churches  and 
the  pastors  did  not  have  to  preach  to  empty  benches.  It  was  very 
seldom  that  a  family  moved  away. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Baxter  were  counting  the  days  until  Nellie's 
return  from  college.  She  would  be  home  early  in  June,  finished. 
Baxter  often  laughed  and  declared  he  was  glad  she  was  "finished" 
for  her  school  expenses  had  about  finished  him. 

Ina,  too,  was  coming  home  to  spend  vacation.  She  had 
spent  the  past  year  in  college,  and  this  was  her  first  visit  home. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nixon  were  making  great  preparations  for  the 
return  of  their  only  and  idolized  child,  and  all  the  village  was 
eagerly  looking  forward  to  having  these  two  bright  girls  home 
again.  They  had  been  greatly  missed  from  church  and  Sun- 
day school.  They  would  be  home  in  time  to  attend  the  graded 
school  commencement.  Several  students  would  graduate  and 
it  had  been  arranged  that  Jack  should  have  part  in  the  graduat- 
ing exercises,  as  he  had  finished  a  special  course  with  honors. 

He  had  pleaded  to  be  left  out,  but  Mr.  Nixon  insisted, 
declaring  that  he  deserved  public  honors  and  besides,  it  would 
encourage  the  other  boys,  who  like  Jack,  had  only  been  to  the 
night  schools.  Mr.  Nixon  had  arranged  with  the  school  board 
and  teachers,  so  that  Jack  should  graduate  with  just  as  much 
honor  as  any  of  the  graded  school  students. 

Jack  was  to  speak,  recite,  or  read  a  piece,  but  no  one 
knew  what  it  was  to  be,  as  he  had  insisted  on  selecting  his  own 
subject  and  kept  it  secret.  He  spent  much  time  and  thought 
on  it.  He  was  not  without  pride  and  ambition,  and  wanted  to 
do  credit  to  Mr.  Nixon  as  well  as  to  himself.     Besides — Nellie 


94  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

and  Ina  would  be  there.  He  must  show  them  that  he  had  made 
good  use  of  his  time  and  had  taken  advantage  of  the  opportuni- 
ties afforded  him  for  improvement. 

Jack  knew  that  he  had  "fought  a  good  fight."  He  had 
won  against  odds,  and  he  was  proud  of  his  record — he  had  a 
right  to  be.  But,  he  was  the  same  gentle,  tender,  affectionate 
Jack — not  the  least  high-minded  or  boastful,  and  there  was  not 
a  boy  in  the  village  who  was  not  proud  of  his  success. 

Nellie  came  home  a  day  earlier  than  had  been  expected. 
She  was  very  attractive  and  greatly  accomplished  and  Jack 
was  almost  bewildered  by  her  bewitching  beauty  and  charming 
manners.  Her  slender  figure  in  simple  and  becoming  attire, 
gave  no  promise  of  ever  attaining  the  wonderful  proportions 
of  her  mother's,  and  there  was  a  world  of  expression  in  her 
deep  gray  eyes,  as  they  rested  on  Jack's  handsome  face,  and 
manly  form. 

At  supper  she  asked  Jack  to  bring  his  violin  and  they  would 
try  some  music  together,  and  with  his  heart  in  his  throat  Jack 
went  to  his  room  for  the  instrument. 

Taking  a  survey  of  himself  in  the  glass,  he  was  dismayed 
to  find  that  his  collar  was  a  little  soiled,  and  he  exchanged  it 
for  a  clean  one  and  put  on  his  prettiest  tie.  He  took  especial 
pains  with  his  hair,  too,  beautiful  dark  gold  hair  it  was  now, 
that  at  all  other  times  was  so  easily  arranged,  but  on  this 
particular  evening,  seemed  impossible  to  manage. 

Joe  watched  his  master  in  some  perplexity  and  anxiety. 
He  knew  that  it  wasn't  Sunday,  and  that  Jack  was  not  going 
to  church.  He  looked  up  into  his  master's  face  and  whined 
questioningly,  but  Jack,  busy  with  his  hair,  paid  no  attention. 
Then  Joe  howled  and  Jack  turned  to  look  at  him  and  read  the 
expression  in  the  soft  brown  eyes.  Instantly  he  knelt  and  threw 
his  arms  about  the  dog's  neck. 

"Joe,  old  boy,  don't  you  worry.  You  shall  go  with  me.  I 
love  you  better  than  anyone  in  the  wide,  wide  world — you  and 
Mose.  No  one  shall  ever  come  between  us,"  and  Joe  was 
satisfied. 

Then  Jack  picked  up  his  beloved  violin,  and  with  Joe  by 
his  side,  went  to  the  hotel,  and  entered  the  parlor  finding 
Nellie  at  the  piano. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  95 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Old  Mose  saw  Jack  enter  the  parlor,  and  a  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion blossomed  on  the  wrinkled  black  face. 

"Lil'  Marse  gettin'  dar  now.  'Taint  gwine  ter  be  long  fo' 
I  see  him  in  de  swim  same  es  any  dese  here  genelmans.  Yah! 
ha,  ha!"  he  laughed,  as  he  made  his  way  out  to  the  barn.  "Miss 
Nellie  sho'  am  won  purty  gal — an'  dat  ain't  all — she's  a  good 
gal.  Whoopee!  If  lil'  Marse  des  had  de  LeGrande  plantation 
now  to  offer  long  wid  hissef.  Hit  des  a  shame  dat  he  ain't  got 
it — it's  his'n.  I  des  a  gret  mind  to  see  some  o'  dem  know-it-alls 
at  de  cote  house,  an  axe  'em  to  'splain  some  law  to  me.  But 
no — Marse  Jack  wouldn't  take  it  away  frum  Mis'  Florence  after 
his  paw  done  gin  it  to  her — and  tain't  no  use." 

Joe  lay  down  in  the  porch  just  outside  the  open  window, 
listening  to  the  music  and  waited  for  Jack.  Several  of  the 
boarders,  and  part  of  the  family  joined  the  couple  in  the  parlor, 
and  all  were  enraptured  over  the  melody  of  these  young  voices 
as  they  blended  together  harmoniously  and  in  perfect  chord 
with  the  piano  and  violin. 

After  awhile  Nellie  and  Jack  were  left  alone.  They  played 
a  few  more  pieces  together,  then  Nellie  closed  the  piano,  saying : 

"Jack,  you  have  a  wonderfully  musical  voice.  We  must 
play  and  sing  together  often — if  you  like — but  now  let's  talk. 
It  seems  ages  since  we  parted — and  oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  be 
home  again." 

"I  have  certainly  missed  you,  Nellie,  and  I  too,  am  glad  you 
are  home  to  stay.  It  will  be  a  real  treat  to  practice  singing 
and  music  with  you,"  and  Jack  led  Nellie  from  the  piano  stool 
to  the  sofa  and  seated  himself  by  her  side,  wondering  if  she 
could  hear  the  wild -throbbing  of  his  heart. 

Jack  had  never  had  time  to  think  of  girls,  and  was  now  in 
the  presence  of  one  bewitchingly  beautiful  and  accomplished. 
It  seemed  hard  to  talk  of  school  and  books  and  common  every- 
day subjects,  when  he  was  almost  intoxicated  with  his  first 
taste  of  social  life. 

Yet,  Nellie  was  so  interested  in  his  success,  and  so  pleased 
to  have  him  confide  in  her,  Jack  found  that  he  was  soon  pouring 
into  her  dainty  ears  all  his  trials  and  troubles,  all  his  fights 
and  victories. 


96  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"Oh,  Jack,  how  glad  I  am  that  I  shall  see  you  graduate. 
When  you  appear  on  the  stage  I  am  going  to  throw  a  boquet 
of  flowers  at  you." 

"Please  don't,  Nellie, — but  give  me  that  rosebud  you  wear, 
right  now,"  said  Jack  bending  over  her  and  looking  into  her 
sparkling  eyes. 

Nellie  laughed:  "So  you  just  order  girls  around,  do  you? 
I  won't  give  it  to  you  unless  you  ask  your  very  prettiest." 

"And  how  is  that?"  Jack  asked,  half  laughing.  "I  won't 
beg  for  it." 

"Bed  time,  Nellie,"  called  her  mother,  and  they  both  rose 
from  the  sofa. 

"Alright,  mama,  I'm  coming,"  answered  Nellie.  They  were 
both  standing  near  the  open  window  now,  and  with  a  saucy 
look,  half  pouting,  half  defiant,  wholly  daring,  Nellie  took  the 
rose  from  her  breast,  walked  to  Jack,  and  pinned  it  on  his  coat. 

"Thak  you:  little  girl — now  I  know  it's  a  free  will  offering 
and  I  shall  prize  it  more,"  and  he  caught  her  hand  and  held  it, 
lingering  over  the  parting  word.  It  seemed  so  hard  to  say 
"good  night."  Why  he  had  only  had  her  to  himself  but  one 
little  hour. 

"I  must  thank  you,  Nellie  for  the  happiest  evening  of  my 
life." 

"Then  I  hope  there  are  other  evenings  just  as  happy, 
Jack,"  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face  with  an  arch  smile.  Jack 
trembled.  He  felt  an  insane  desire  to  crush  her  in  his  arms 
and  probably  would  have  yielded  to  the  temptation,  but  just 
at  that  moment  Joe  struck  his  head  through  the,  window,  caught 
Jack  by  the  coat  tail  and  pulled. 

Jack  dropped  Nellie's  hand,  stepped  through  the  window 
and  hurried  toward  his  room,  feeling  a  little  angry  with  his 
faithful  dog. 

Half  way  to  the  barn,  some  one  tapped  him  on  the  arm. 
It  was  Steve  Laney,  and  Jack  knew  at  once  that  something 
was  wrong. 

"What  is  it,  Steve,"  asked  Jack,  seriously. 

"You!"  exclaimed  Steve,  trembling  and  in  a  choked  voice. 
"Jack,  I've  loved  Nellie  all  her  life — don't  come  between  us. 
If  you  care  a  darned  thing  for  me- if  you  are  the  honorable 
gentleman  you  claim  to  be,-  play  fair— give  me  a  chance." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  97 

"Steve,  what  do  you  mean?  I  didn't  know  you  loved  Nellie 
— you  have  never  told  me.    And — and  does  she  love  you?" 

"I  don't  suppose  she  does — I  did  not  know  I  cared  for 
her  for  all  time  and  eternity,  but  I  do.  I  knew  it  when  I  saw 
her  come  up  from  the  depot  today.  She  gave  me  a  red  rose, 
too,  at  Sunday  school  once — that's  when  I  began  loving  her. 
Then  she  went  off  to  school  and  I  settled  down  to  study — 
because  I  wanted  to  be  worthy  to  address  her  when  school 
days  were  over.  You've  been  a  good  friend  to  me  Jack,  but 
I  think  I  should  want  to  kill  you  if  you  took  Nellie  away  from 
me." 

"So  you  have  never  courted  her — she  doesn't  know  your 
feelings — does  not  care  for  you — and  you  come  to  me  crying 
"hands  off,"  just  as  if  she  belonged  to  you,"  retorted  Jack,  a 
little  hurt.     "I  think  you  are  unreasonable,  Steve." 

"Maybe  I  am,  Jack,  but  it's  because  I  love  her.  Good 
night,"  and  Steve  walked  away,  a  bitter,  jealous  pain  in  his 
heart. 

Jack  stopped  and  spoke  to  his  dog: 

"Joe,  did  you  know?  Was  that  why  you  stopped  me?  Did 
Steve  see,  and  would  have  killed  me?  Oh,  Joe,  Joe,  a  few 
moments  ago  I  was  happy,  now  I  am  miserable — and  so  is 
poor  Steve.  It  must  be  turture  to  love  a  girl  like  that.  And 
she  gave  him  a  red  rose,  too." 

Jack's  dreams  were  troubled  that  night.  He  was  haunted 
by  a  pair  of  gray  eyes,  and  by  the  misery  pictured  in  the  dark 
face  of  Steve  Laney,  his  best  friend. 

Next  day  Steve  ran  his  section  and  Jack  filled  his  place 
as  second  hand,  each  studiously  avoiding  the  other.  This  was 
Wednesday,  and  during  the  afternoon  Jack  was  standing  in 
the  big  alley,  when  he  saw  the  superintendent  coming  toward 
him,  accompanied  by  a  vision  of  girlish  beauty  in  a  white  dress 
and  crimson  sash  and  hair  ribbons,  that  was  wonderfully 
becoming  to  her  rich  complexion,  dark  hair  and  eyes.  This 
was  Ina  Nixon,  slender,  petite,  and  graceful  as  a  young  fawn, 
the  most  tantalizingly  beautiful  creature  imaginable. 

With  a  glad  smile  wreathing  her  crimson  lips,  she  came 
straight  to  Jack,  giving  him  her  soft  little  hand,  and  congratu- 
lating him  on  his  promotion  and  on  his  success  in  school. 

"Better  look  out,  Daddy,  Jack  will  be  wanting  your  place 
next,"  she  warned  her  father.     Mr.   Nixon,  looking  at  Jack's 


98  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

manly  figure  and  handsome  features,  and  noting  the  admiration 
in  his  Irish  blue  eyes  as  they  rested  on  the  lovely  Ina  felt 
a  little  disturbed,  but  not  over  the  thought  of  losing  his  office. 

"And  how  is  dear  Joe?"  asked  Ina.  Jack  smiled  appre- 
ciatively : 

"Joe  is  getting  old  and  feeble,  but  still  takes  care  of  me," 
he  answered,  feeling  that  he  would  like  to  hug  Joe  and  Steve 
Laney,  too.  "Yes,  Joe  is  getting  old — is  nearly  eleven  years 
old.  I  know  he  can't  live  many  more  years.  If  the  death  angel 
visits  him  first,  I  shall  be  terribly  lonely,"  and  the  sweet  brown 
eyes  were  full  of  sympathy. 

"And  Uncle  Mose — is  he  still  hale  and  hearty?" 

"Yes,  thank  you,  he  looks  just  about  the  same,  and  seems 
just  as  lively.  He  is  the  greatest  old  darkey  in  the  world,"  said 
Jack. 

"And  Nellie  has  already  come.  I'm  sorry  she  beat  me 
home,"  and  in  his  heart  Jack  was  saying,  "and  I  am  sorry, 
too.  Had  I  seen  you  first  I  would  not  have  made  a  fool  of 
myself,  or  wounded  my  best  friend." 

"Everything  running  nicely,  Jack?"  asked  Mr.  Nixon, 
feeling  that  he  must  say  something. 

"Oh,  yes,  not  a  hitch  anywhere.  Those  new  frames  are 
giving  complete  satisfaction,  now." 

"Ready  to  go,  pet?"  asked  her  father,  and  Ina,  nodding 
her  dark  curls  to  Jack,  passed  out,  saying: 

"I'll  see  you  get  your  diploma  Friday  night,  Mr.  LeGrande," 
and  Jack  watched  her  disappear  through  the  doorway,  with  a 
queer  tugging  at  his  heart  strings. 

When  she  had  gone  he  stood  and  stared  after  her,  his 
brain  reeling.  Then  after  a  few  moments  he  drew  a  deep 
sigh,  turned  and  walked  swiftly  towards  Steve's  section.  Steve 
was  standing  at  an  open  window,  looking  down  toward  the 
hotel,  a  despairing  expressin  in  his  dark  eyes.  Jack  ran  his 
arm  through  Steve's  and  gave  it  an  affectionate  squeeze.  Steve 
caught  his  breath,  and  bit  his  lips,  but  gave  no  other  sign 
that  he  had  noticed  Jack's  advances.  Jack  spoke;  and  there 
was  a  world  of  love  in  his  voice: 

"Steve,  don't  worry.  Nothing  shall  come  between  us,  or 
mar  the  beauty  of  our  friendship.  Even  if  I  loved  Nellie,  I'd 
never  try  to  win  her  from  ray  best  friend.  But  Steve,  I  don't 
love  her — I  never  shall.     I  know  now  what  love  is,  and  I  can 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  99 

sympathize  with  you.  I  was  almost  carried  off  my  feet  last 
night  by  Nellie's  beauty  and  charm,  but  it  wasn't  love — and  I 
have  Joe  to  thank  that  I  did  not  make  a  complete  ass  of  myself." 

Steve  had  now  turned  and  was  looking  into  Jack's  face 
eagerly. 

"You  mean  it,  Jack?  You  don't  love  Nellie?  You  won't 
try  to  win  her?  Little  chance  would  I  have — I  know  that — if 
you  should  seek  her  favor.  But  I'm  afraid  you  are  just  giving 
her  up,  for  friendship's  sake — seems  to  me  that  you  are  bound 
to  love  her.  I'm  sorry  I  was  so  nasty  last  night.  But  I  was 
passing— I  couldn't  help  seeing  her  pin  that  rose  on  your  coat- 
and  the  way  you  both  looked — I  just  couldn't  stand  it.  For- 
give me,  Jack,"  Steve  stammered. 

"There's  nothing  to  forgive,  Steve.  Here's  my  hand.  Go  in 
and  win.  I  shall  be  Nellie's  friend — nothing  more.  Good  luck 
to  you,"  and  as  Steve  crushed  his  hand,  Jack  felt  a  load  lifted 
from  his  heart. 

Jack  excused  himself  that  night  when  Nellie  again  invited 
him  to  practice  music,  saying  that  he  must  do  some  work  to- 
ward getting  ready  for  the  commencement.  He  knew  that 
Steve  was  to  call  on  Nellie  that  evening,  yet  he  saw  that  she  was 
disappointed  when  he  offered  excuses. 

It  was  late  when  he  retired  and  it  seemed  that  he  had  only 
closed  his  eyes,  when  Joe  nudged  him  in  the  side,  continuously, 
then  pulled  at  him.  What  could  be  the  matter?  Joe  never 
made  a  mistake. 

Ah !  some  one  was  stealthily  opening  the  stable  door — some 
one  was  stealing  Mr.  Baxter's  five  hundred  dollar  buggy  horse. 
Jack  sprang  lightly  from  bed,  jerked  on  his  pants  and  rushed 
out,  just  as  a  dark  form  leaped  upon  the  horse's  back  and  dashed 
toward  the  gate  leading  to  the  big  road. 

"Go  for  him.  Joe,"  hissed  Jack,  at  the  same  time  springing 
forward  after  the  thief.  Joe  needed  no  second  bidding — his 
fighting  blood  was  up.  He  sprang  like  a  panther  upon  the 
horse's  back,  buried  his  fangs  in  the  man's  shoulders  and  to- 
gether they  fell  from  the  back  of  the  frightened  horse,  rolling 
at  Jack's  feet. 

In  the  darkness  Jack  could  not  distinguish  man  from  beast. 
Suddenly  the  man  rose  with  Joe  fastened  to  his  back  and  Jack 
grappled  with  him.  There  was  the  quick  flash  of  a  knife  and 
while  Jack  dealt  a  terrible  blow  squarely  between  the  man's 


100  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

eyes,  he  felt  the  keen  steel  enter  his  side.  Both  fell  together, 
and  though  Joe's  teeth  were  old  and  he  feeble,  he  fought  with 
all  the  vigor  of  youthful  days. 

The  thief,  wielding  the  terrible  knife  cut  and  slashed  un- 
mercifully, while  Jack,  growing  weaker  and  weaker  from  loss 
of  blood,  fought  with  his  bare  hands. 

Presently  all  was  still,  and  there  was  only  the  tramping  of 
the  horse  as  it  wandered  about  the  lot,  frightened  over  the  smell 
of  blood.  No  one  had  been  awakened.  None  knew  of  the  ter- 
rible thing  that  had  happened,  or  dreamed  of  what  the  morning 
light  would  reveal. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Baxter  in  surprise,  as  she  looked 
into  the  kitchen,  and  saw  no  fire  in  the  range.  "I  wonder  what 
is  the  matter  with  Jack?  Goodness  knows,  he  don't  have  to 
make  fires,  but  he's  always  insisted  on  doing  it,  and  this  is  the 
first  time  he  has  ever  overslept.  Poor  boy,  he  is  studyin'  too 
hard,  tryin'  to  get  ready  for  the  big-to-do,  and  no  wonder  he 
couldn't  wake."  Mrs.  Baxter  jerked  the  lids  off  the  range  in  a 
hurry,  piled  in  the  wood,  added  a  dash  of  kerosene  and  the  fire 
was  soon  roaring  and  ready  for  the  cook. 

Just  then  she  heard  Mose  and  looking  from  the  window  she 
saw  him  running  toward  the  house,  gesticulating  wildly  and 
preaching  and  praying,  she  couldn't  understand  which,  and 
acting  as  if  he  had  gone  crazy.  Mose  came  tumbling  on,  and 
was  soon  in  the  yard,  and  near  enough  to  be  understood: 

"Murder!     Murder!     Bloody  murder!" 

"Gawd  a-mighty !"  he  cried,  "Marse  Jack  an'  Joe  done  been 
murdered.  Somebody  come  quick!  Lawd  in  heben,  come  take 
ole  Mose,  too!  I  doan  want  to  lib  no  longer,"  he  shrieked.  "I 
done  let  somebody  kill  mah  chile!" 

Mrs.  Baxter  jumped  from  the  low  window,  screaming  as 
she  ran,  and  Mr.  Baxter,  hearing  the  alarm,  turned  out  bare- 
footed and  gave  chase,  with  Nellie  in  a  kimona,  bringing  up  the 
rear,  her  face  white  with  terror  and  anguish. 

What  they  found  in  the  barnyard  froze  the  blood  in  their 
veins.  There  lay  Jack,  cold  and  silent  in  a  puddle  of  blood,  and 
just. a  few  feet  away  lay  the  thief,  with  Joe's  teeth  clenched  in 
his  throat.  The  faithful  dog,  covered  in  blood,  relaxed  his  hold 
as  Mr.  Baxter  drew  near,  whined  piteously,  crawled  weakly  uo 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  101 

the  side  of  his  master,  and  began  licking  the  pale  face  with 
his  pink  tongue,  and  setting  up  a  dismal  howl  when  he  failed 
to  get  a  responsive  caress  or  word  of  affection. 

"Phone  for  the  police  and  all  the  doctors,"  shrieked  Mrs. 
Baxter,  shaking  her  husband.  "Go  quick.  Oh,  it  can't  be  that 
our  dear  Jack  is  dead,"  and  with  a  sob  and  a  prayer,  Baxter 
moved  with  the  greatest  rapidity  of  his  life  to  execute  orders. 
Nellie  dropped  down  on  the  ground  and  lifted  Jack's  head  in 
her  lap,  sobbing,  but  not  hysterically. 

"Bring  some  water,  mother — call  for  Ned — or  somebody. 
We  must  save  Jack  and  Joe, — oh,  Jack,  dear  Jack,  speak  to 
Nellie,"  and  the  girl  bent  and  kissed  his  brow,  bathing  his  face 
in  her  tears. 

In  an  incredibly  short  time,  the  faithful  telephone  had 
spread  the  news.  Breakfast  was  forgotten  at  Baxter  Heights. 
Superintendent  Nixon,  his  wife  and  Ina  were  soon  among  the 
crowd  which  gathered  at  the  scene  of  the  most  terrible  tragedy 
the  town  had  ever  known.  The  mill  whistle  blew,  but  so  few 
went  to  work  that  the  "wheels  stopped"  until  noon. 

Two  doctors  arrived  in  an  auto,  totally  disregarding  speed 
limit,  and  after  a  hurried  examination,  shook  their  heads 
gravely. 

"The  stranger  is  dead,"  they  said,  "and  Jack  cannot  pos- 
sibly live — he's  lost  too  much  blood.  There's  just  a  spark  of 
life — just  a  little  flickering  of  the  pulse  that  is  almost  imper- 
ceptible.    Oh,  if  he  could  have  been  found  sooner." 

"Doctor,  for  God's  sake,  don't  say  Jack  must  die.  He 
shan't  die!"  cried  Steve  Laney,  falling  on  his  knees  by  Jack's 
side.  "Oh,  doctor,  I've  heard  how  blood  can  be  fused  into  one — 
take  me,  take  my  blood  and  give  to  Jack,"  baring  his  strong 
muscular  arm  and  holding  it  out  entreatingly. 

Nellie's  eyes  brightened  as  she  looked  up  at  Steve,  and  she 
whispered : 

"God  bless  you,  Steve — oh,  God  bless  you!  How  good  you 
are." 

"And  I  am  strong  and  healthy — if  a  girl's  blood  can  give 
him  strength  give  him  mine,"  cried  Ina,  clasping  the  doctor's 
arm.  "Doctor,  he  must  not  die — our  noble  Jack — he  shall  not 
die,"  she  sobbed. 

"We'll  do  all  we  can.    Let's  get  him  to  the  house." 


102  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"The  hotel  is  too  noisy — take  him  to  my  house,"  commanded 
the  superintendent,  and  Ina  gave  him  a  smile  of  thanks. 

"Oh,  we  can't  consent  to  that,"  began  Mrs.  Baxter,  but  the 
doctor  silenced  all  objection  by  declaring  that  Jack  must  have 
absolute  quiet,  and  ordered  that  he  be  carried  to  Mr.  Nixon's 
home. 

In  the  meantime  another  doctor  had  arrived  and  was  caring 
for  Joe  as  tenderly  as  if  he  had  been  a  human  being,  having 
been  told  by  Baxter  that  no  time  or  money  must  be  spared  in 
his  efforts  to  save  the  dog.  And  while  Jack  was  being  moved 
so  tenderly  on  a  stretcher,  the  doctors  were  making  a  careful 
but  hurried  analysis  of  his  blood  and  Steve's  in  order  to  see 
if  the  two  would  blend  properly,  and  were  delighted  to  find  the 
trial  a  success. 

There  was  a  glad,  hopeful  light  in  Steve's  dark  eyes  as  he 
stood  by  the  bed  of  his  friend  and  gave  of  his  heart's  blood  to 
save  him  from  death.  Nellie  and  Ina  paced  the  carpeted  hall 
outside  the  door,  their  arms  around  each  other  as  they  waited 
in  agony  and  suspense  for  a  word  of  hope  from  the  doctors, 
who  were  so  busy  inside.  Mose  knelt  by  the  door  and  prayed 
for  the  Death  Angel  to  "pass  on  by,"  just  as  he  had  prayed 
when  Jack  struggled  with  pneumonia  years  before. 

"Oh,  poor  Jack — there's  no  commencement  exercises — no 
graduation  with  honors  now  for  him,"  said  Nellie  in  a  choked 
voice. 

"No,  not  now,  but  oh.  what  a  hero  he  is.  Why  that  thief 
was  a  large,  powerful  man,  fully  fifty  pounds  heavier  than  Jack, 
yet  the  dear  boy  fought  him  with  his  bare  fists,  and  saved  your 
father's  horse  from  being  stolen.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Joe, 
though,  the  man  might  have  killed  Jack,"  said  Ina  shuddering. 

"I  wish  Jack  had  not  known.  I  wish  the  man  had  gotten 
the  horse  and  gone,  rather  than  this  should  have  happened. 
Oh,  if  Jack  and  Joe  should  die,"  groaned  Nellie. 

"Don't  say  it.  Nellie — Jack  must  not,  shall  not,  die.  Steve 
will  save  him— let's  pray  silently  that  we  shall  soon  hear  good 
news  from  the  doctor.  Let's  pray  for  Joe,  too.  It  would  kill 
Jack  to  lose  him."  And  arm  in  arm,  with  white  faces,  bowed 
heads  and  aching  hearts,  the  girls  walked  up  and  down  the  hall 
sending  up  silent  petitions  to  heaven  for  the  restoration  of  Jack 
and  Joe,  pausing  to  pat  old  Mose  on  the  head,  and  speak  to  him 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  103 

comfortingly  as  they  passed  the  bowed  figure,  writhing  in 
anguish. 

The  porch  and  lawn  were  full  to  overflowing  with  people, 
who  waited  anxiously  for  hopeful  news  of  the  beloved  Jack  and 
Joe.  Their  good  qualities  were  discussed  in  whispers  and  in 
voices  choked  with  emotions.    How  they  were  loved. 

Joe  had  been  given  a  cot  in  Jack's  room,  and  Mrs.  Nixon 
and  Mrs.  Baxter  were  assisting  the  doctor  to  bathe  and  dress 
his  wounds,  which  were  many.  It  seemed  countless  hours,  before 
the  door  opened  and  Mrs.  Nixon  came  out,  softly  closing  it  be- 
hind her.  Mose  and  the  girls  rushed  forward  holding  their 
breath,  longing,  yet  dreading  to  hear — fearing  the  worst. 

"Please,  mistis — for  Gawd's  sake,  give  us  good  news,"  and 
old  Mose  clasped  his  hands  entreatingly,  shrinking  at  the  first 
sound  of  her  voice. 

"His  pulse  is  a  little  stronger,  but  it  will  take  some  time 
yet.  Steve  will  save  him,  the  doctor  thinks,  and  I  have  never 
seen  such  joy  as  that  pictured  on  Steve's  face,  as  he  heard  the 
verdict,"  said  Mrs.  Nixon,  putting  an  arm  around  each  girl, 
for  both  looked  ready  to  faint.  Mose  fell  on  his  knees  and  lifted 
his  clasped  hands   while  tears  rolled  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks : 

Hebenly  Marster!  I  thanks  Ye.  I  wuz  a  bad  niggah  to  not 
wake  up  to  help  lil*  Marse  an  You's  mighty  good  to  not  let  me 
die  under  sich  a  burden  o'  guilt  an'  shame  as  dat.  Thank  ye, 
good  Lawd !  Thank  ye !  An'  please  doan'  let  old  Mose  sleep  so 
hard  no  more.  Gin  me  health  and  strength  to  nuss  mah  chile 
an'  Joe  back  to  health,  den  take  me  to  Dilsie  when  ye  see  fit," 
he  prayed,  while  Mrs.  Nixon  and  the  girls  stood  with  heads 
bowed  reverently. 

"It's  going  to  be  hard  on  Steve,  though,"  continued  Mrs. 
Nixon,  "for  it  will  take  a  lot  of  blood  to  revive  Jack.  The  dear 
boy's  life  was  oh,  so  nearly  gone.  I  shudder  to  think  of  what 
even  five  minutes  more  would  have  meant."  Nellie  turned  even 
whiter  as  she  whispered : 

"God  bless  Steve — he  is  a  hero,  too." 

"Mama,  can't  I  take  Steve's  place?"  Ina  asked,  wistfully. 
I'd  like  to  do  it — please  let  me." 

"No,  darling,  Steve  vows  that  he'll  give  every  drop  of  blood 
that  he  can  spare  and  live,  and  that  no  one  shall  take  his 
place.  His  love  for  Jack  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  I  have 
ever  seen." 


104  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"Jack  would  have  done  the  same  for  Steve,  I'm  sure," 
declared  Nellie.  "Their  devotion  to  each  other  is  something 
unusual,  and  very  remarkable." 

"Now  tell  us  about  Joe,"  Ina  asked. 

"I  can  hardly  say — but  we  try  to  hope  for  the  best.  He 
was  cut  unmercifully — took  many  a  thrust  that  was  aimed  at 
poor  Jack,  no  doubt.  We  got  his  wounds  nicely  dressed,  and  oh, 
he  was  so  patient  and  seemed  so  grateful.  He  doesn't  act  like 
a  dog  at  all,  and  obediently  drank  his  medicine — lots  better 
than  some  people  would." 

"Yah,  an  'dat  dog's  got  a  soul,  too.  Doan  tell  me  Joe  wont 
go  to  heben, — kase  if  he  doan  day  ain't  none  to  go  to — dat's  all," 
declared  Mose,  and  no  one  contradicted  him. 

Mrs.  Baxter  now  came  out,  her  face  bright  with  hope,  as  she 
brought  more  news : 

"Yes,  thank  God,  he's  getting  some  color  and  his  heart 
beats  stronger.  The  doctor  told  Steve  that  he  had  given  enough 
blood  now,  but  Steve  insisted  on  giving  more — says  he  ain't 
feelin'  a  bit  weak — but  he's  gettin'  mighty  pale." 

Nellie's  gray  eyes  brightened  with  admiration  and  she 
caught  her  breath  in  quick  gasps. 

Oh,  I'm  so  glad — so  glad,"  she  faltered. 

"I  could  just  hug  and  kiss  Steve,"  declared  Ina,  and  Nellie 
glanced  at  her  apprehensively.  "Can't  we  slip  in  just  a  second 
and  see  Jack?"  asked  Ina.  "We  won't  speak  a  word,  and  will 
be  quiet — oh,  let  us  see  him  so  we  may  forget  the  horror  of  his 
pale  bloody  face — it's  before  my  eyes  all  the  time." 

"And  we  want  to  see  Steve — we  want  him  to  know  how  we 
admire  his  courage  and  bravery.  I  don't  delieve  the  doctors 
would  have*  mentioned  fusion  if  Steve  had  not  suggested  it," 
said  Nellie. 

"An'  dey  mus'n  keep  me  out  much  longer — I  des  can't 
stan'  it,"  declared  Mose.  "My  place  is  right  side  o'  lil'  Marse. 
He'll  want  me." 

"I'll  see  if  the  doctors  will  let  you  in,"  said  Mrs.  Nixon, 
looking  searchingly  into  the  girls'  faces  and  heaving  a  troubled 
sigh. 

Presently  the  girls  and  Mose  were  allowed  to  enter.  The 
operation  was  over,  but  Steve,  weak  and  pale,  still  sat  by  the 
bed  and  bent  eagerly  over  his  friend,  who  had  not  yet  spoken, 
but  seemed  to  be  resting.    He  did  not  look  up  as  Nellie  paused 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  105 

by  his  side.  Mose  bent  forward  and  gently  stroked  one  of 
Jack's  hands.  The  pale  lips  moved  and  all  listened  for  the 
whisper : 

"Nellie — "  Steve  dropped  his  face  in  his  hands.  Ina's  dark 
eyes  grew  darker,  her  cheeks  paler.  Nellie's  hand  fluttered  to 
her  breast, — she  seemed  choked: 

"Nellie, — take — back the    rose.      Give — it — to — Steve," 

came  the  weak  voice,  and  Steve  looked  up  searchingly,  wistfully, 
and  questioningly  into  the  girl's  face.  But  Nellie  was  watching 
Jack,  who  now  raised  his  hands,  holding  them  out  entreatingly : 

"Ina — dear  little — brown-eyed  pansy."  Mrs.  Nixon,  in 
great  confusion,  hurried  Ina  from  the  room,  while  Nellie,  her 
heart  throbbing  with  contending  emotions,  hastily  followed.  Mr. 
Nixon  and  Baxter  looked  at  each  other  questioningly  and 
silently  shook  their  heads.  The  doctors  beamed  at  each  other, 
and  one  turned  to  Steve  with  congratulations : 

"Young  man,  your  friend  owes  his  life  to  you."  There's  no 
doubt  now,  that  he'll  get  well,  unless  blood  poisoning  or  other 
complications  set  in.  He's  badly  cut — but  nicely  fixed  up  now, 
and  we  are  sure  he'll  pull  through.  It's  hard  to  kill  a  young  man 
who  is  in  love,  and  has  so  much  to  live  for,"  he  added  with 
a  smile. 

"Mose,"  came  a  voice  from  the  pillow,  and  Jack  smiled 
weakly  into  the  old  black  face  bending  over  him.  "Where — is 
—Joe?" 

Joe  heard  the  loved  voice,  whined  and  struggled  feebly  to 
rise  and  go  to  his  master.  The  poor  dog  was  just  a  bundle  of 
bandages. 

"We  is  bofe  of  us  right  here  wid  ye,  HI'  Marse,  praise 
Gawd,"  said  old  Mose,  stroking  the  golden  hair.  Two  of  the 
doctors  lifted  Joe,  quilt  and  all,  and  placed  him  on  the  bed  by 
his  master,  and  their  eyes  filled  with  tears  over  the  dog's  feeble 
thanks,  and  Jack's  appreciation. 

"Did  the  thief — get — away?"  Jack  asked. 

"No,"  cried  Baxter,  coming  forward.  "Joe  killed  him.  The 
police  has  got  the  skunk — whoever  he  is.  He  mighty  ni  finished 
you  Jack,  but  Joe  saved  you — Joe  an'  Steve." 

"Steve?"  and  Steve  bent  over  the  patient,  and  spoke 
soothingly : 

"There,   Jack,   be  quiet.     I   didn't  do   a   darn   thing,   only 


106  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

divided  blood  with  you;  you  had  leaked  dry.  Now,  hush,  go  to 
sleep  and  rest." 

A  world  of  love  and  gratitude  shown  in  Jack's  face  and 
clinging  to  Mose's  hand  on  one  side,  and  Steve's  on  the  other, 
he  soon  fell  asleep  with  Joe's  brown  eyes  eagerly  watching  him. 

Nixon  slipped  out  and  joined  his  wife.  Ina  had  retired  to 
her  own  room  Mrs.  Baxter  and  Nellie  had  dispersed  the  crowd, 
sending  them  away  hopeful  for  the  recovery  of  Jack  and  Joe, 
and  they,  too,  had  gone  home. 

"Well,"  choked  Mrs.  Nixon.  "I'm  sorry  you  brought  Jack 
here.     He  is  in  love  with  Ina." 

"I  believe  he  is — but  is  that  anything  so  terrible?  He's 
the  finest  young  man  I  know,'  'answered  her  husband,  smiling. 

"But  they  are  too  young— Ina  has  three  years  in  school  yet— 
I'm  afraid  she  won't  finish,"  said  the  mother. 

"Do  you  suppose  she  cares  for  Jack?" 

"If  she  doesn't,  she  will — who  wouldn't?  Oh,  I  love  Jack, 
but  I'll  never  let  him  or  anyone  have  Ina — our  only  baby."  Mrs. 
Nixon  burst  into  hysterical  sobs,  and  her  husband  took  her  in 
his  arms,  and  tried  to  soothe  her. 

"There,  dear,  we  won't  cross  the  bridge  until  we  get  to  it," 
he  said.  "But,  if  the  children  were  old  enough,  we  certainly 
could  not  object.     Let's  think  no  more  about  it." 

"I  shall  certainly  take  every  precaution  to  keep  Jack  and 
Ina  apart.  We'd  better  get  a  trained  nurse,  I  think.  She  and 
Nellie  will  want  to  take  possession  of  the  sick  room.  Nursing 
a  handsome  patient  is  in  itself  a  romanetic  appeal  to  any  girl. 
It  just  won't  do,  dear,"  continued  Mrs.  Nixon. 

The  doctors  now  came  from  the  sick  room,  and  Mr.  Nixon 
hurried  out  in  the  hall  to  speak  to  them. 

"How  are  our  patients?"  he  asked. 

Both  resting  beautifully.     I  guess  we  ought  to  apologize 
for  putting  the  dog  in  bed — but — " 

"Not  at  all  ,not  at  all,  doctor.  We  hardly  look  on  Joe  as 
a  doe-.  He's  welcome  to  the  best  bed  in  the  house,"  declared 
Mr.  Nixon. 

"That  he  is,"  added  Mrs.  Nixon,  joining  them.  "There 
has  never  been  such  a  dog  as  Joe,  never  such  a  devoted  servant 
as  Mose,  and — and  never  a  finer  young  man  than  Jack.  And 
doctor — hadn't  we  better  have  a  trained  nurse?" 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  107 

"I  don't  think  it  necessary.  The  young  man,  Steve,  his 
friend,  declares  he  intends  to  nurse  him,  and,  when  Jack  gets 
stronger,  visits  from  those  two  pretty  girls  will  do  him  more 
good  than  a  trained  nurse,"  added  the  doctor  laughing. 

The  'phone  rang  and  Mr.  Nixon  answered : 

"Hello!  Police  headquarters?  Yes,  this  is  Nixon.  Doing 
fine.  Yes,  Joe  is  resting,  too.  Doctors  sure  both  will  recover. 
Nothing  on  the  thief  to  identify  him?  Too  bad.  Yes,  of  course 
— but  if  his  people  should  see  the  ad.  and  know  the  circum- 
stances, they'd  hardly  claim  the  body,  I  think.  Yes?  Alright — 
Good-bye." 

And  the  body  of  the  thief,  who  was  about  40  years  old,  was 
never  claimed  and  was  finally  buried,  unknown. 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

It  was  late  Thursday  afternoon  when  Jack  opened  his  eyes, 
looked  around  rationally  and  remembered. 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  begged,  weakly,  but  persistently, 
when  at  last  all  had  left  the  room  except  Mose  and  Steve.  It 
was  quite  evident  that  he  would  not  rest  until  possessed  of  the 
details  of  the  tragedy,  and  it  was  thought  best  to  humor  him. 
Steve  told  him  about  it,  making  no  mention  of  how  he  had  given 
his  blood  to  restore  his  friend,  and  Mose  chimed  in : 

"Dat  ain't  all,  honey.  Marse  Steve  seen  you  laying  dar, 
an'  hearn  de  doctors  say  it  too  late — you's  los'  too  much  blood 
an'  boun'  to  die,  an'  he  des  up  an'  lammed  his  fis'  in  de  doctor's 
face  an'  yell  fur  him  to  go  to  work,  you  shan't  die!  Den  he 
made  dat  doctor  man  fix  a  curis  kind  o'  pump  on  to  him  an' 
dey  pumped  de  blood  outen  Marse  Steve  rite  into  yo'  veins, 
till  he  wuz  mitey  ni  ready  to  drap  hisself  an — " 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Mose,"  exclaimed  Steve:  "I  never  even 
felt  it — it  wasn't  anything  to  do — anyone  would  have  done  it." 

"No,  Steve,  you  are  the  only  one  in  the  wide  world  who 
would  have  done  such  a  thing  for  me,"  said  Jack,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  reaching  for  Steve's  hand. 

"I  would,  Marse  Jack,  but  I  done  dried  up  on  de  stalk — 
ain't  go  no  blood,"  said  Mose. 

"Yes,  dear  old  Mose,  I  know  you  would  have  done  it — you 
would  do  anything  for  me." 


108  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"But  it  wouldn't  have  done,  Mose,  not  even  if  you  had  been 
real  good  and  juicy,"  laughed  Steve.  "Just  think,  if  Jack's 
reservoir  had  been  replenished  from  your  supply,  he'd  be  steal- 
ing watermelons  and  chickens  most  likely,  soon  as  he  could 
travel.    We've  got  to  save  Jack's  reputation  as  well  as  his  life." 

"Das  so,  Marse  Steve,"  laughed  Mose,  "tain't  no  use  to  run 
no  resks." 

"But  some  one  else  did  want  to  do  the  same  for  you,  Jack, 
and  if  that  had  happened,  you'd  be  curling  your  hair,  I  expect, 
and  going  in  for  laces  and  ribbons  and  corsets — " 

"What  do  you  mean,  Steve?"  and  a  smile  wreathed  Jack's 
lips  as  he  looked  into  the  dark  face  of  his  friend. 

"Ina  offered  herself — she  begged  to  be  allowed  to  take  my 
place,"  replied  Steve  softly.  Jack's  eyes  opened  wide  in  aston- 
ishment, which  gave  way  to  tenderness  and  a  feeling  of  ecstacy. 

"Dear  little  girl,"  he  whispered,  and  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall.     Presently  he  spoke  again : 

"How  is  Joe?  Will  he  get  well,  Mose?"  Mose  was  sitting 
on  the  cot  where  Joe  was  now  reposing  and  was  putting  cold 
wet  cloths  to  the  dog's  head. 

"Corse  he  gwine  ter  git  well,  honey.  He  gwine  ter  be  de 
ring  bearer  when  you  and  Miss  Nellie  git  married." 

Mose  did  not  know  of  what  had  happened  between  Jack 
and  Steve,  but  remembered  how  on  Tuesday  night  Jack  had 
stayed  so  late  with  Nellie  in  the  parlor.  Steve  turned  white 
and  looked  out  toward  the  setting  sun.  Jack  colored  in 
embarrassment : 

"Mose  that  will  never  happen,"  he  said.  "Don't  think  of 
it  again,"  and  he  pressed  Steve's  hand. 

Now  'fore  de  Lawd,  HI'  Marse,  doan  you  git  no  flirtin  in 
yo'  head — dey  ain't  no  gal  kin  hoi'  a  light  to  Miss  Nellie.  Did'n 
I  see  her  kissing  yo'  back  to  life  out  dar  in  de  lot  whar  she 
foun'  you?  Doan  you  treat  Miss  Nellie  wrong — she's  a  good 
gal,"  rattled  Mose,  not  knowing  how  he  was  hurting  Jack,  and 
disturbing  Steve. 

"Mose,  for  God's  sake,  hush,"  cried  Jack  in  distress. 
"Nellie  is  Steve's  sweetheart."  Mose  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  in  blank  dismay,  realizing  that  something  was  badly 
wrong. 

"Not  if  she  loves  you,  Jack,"  choked  Steve,  trying  to  smile 
bravely.     "But  hush,  now,  I  fear  you  are  talking  too  much. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  109 

Don't  worry  about  anything.  Just  get  well.  I'm  your  friend, 
no  difference  what  happens." 

Just  outside  the  door  stood  Nellie,  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot, 
her  hands  filled  with  flowers,  her  face  pale  and  crimson  alter- 
nately. She  had  evidently  heard  every  word.  Turning  she 
went  swiftly  out  and  in  a  few  moments  had  reached  home  and 
locked  herself  in  her  room.  She  placed  the  flowers  in  a  vase 
of  water,  bathed  her  face  and  hands,  sat  down  by  her  window 
and  took  herself  to  task: 

"I  won't  be  a  fool,— I  don't  think  I  love  Jack  anyway— I'm 
just  in  love  with  his  energy,  ambition  and  success.  And  what 
if  /  did  kiss  him" — and  her  cheeks  grew  crimson — "it  was  just 
through  pity  and — and  just  such  a  kiss  as  I'd  give  Ned," 
defiantly.  "And  can  it  really  be  that  Steve  cares  for  me?  He 
has  proven  himself  a  hero — he's  grand.  Well,  I'll  try  to  act 
as  if  I  hadn't  heard — I'll  forget  it  and  be  as  natural  and  act  as 
sisterly  toward  Jack,  as  I  can,"  determinedly. 

It  was  now  Friday  evening  and  "Commencement."  Jack 
could  see  the  graded  school  grounds  from  his  window;  and,  as 
he  watched  the  crowds  gather,  he  could  hardly  keep  the  tears 
from  his  eyes.  The  band  boys  had  all  been  to  see  him,  bringing 
breezy  bits  of  news  and  gossip  to  cheer  him  up ;  but  all  were 
grieved  over  the  fact  that  poor  Jack  could  not  occupy  his  place 
among  them,  nor  even  be  present  at  the  exercises. 

Nellie,  Ina  and  other  girls  had  brightened  the  sick  room 
with  their  presence  and  had  brought  beautiful  flowers.  Steve 
had  left  Jack  only  to  get  his  meals.  Mose  was  constantly  on 
the  alert,  trying  to  do  something  for  Jack  or  Joe,  and  the  boy 
had  not  been  allowed  to  feel  lonely.  He  tried  hard  to  hide 
his  disappointment  and  to  bear  his  confinement  with  patience, 
but  the  wistful  expression  on  his  face  made  a  lump  rise  in  the 
throat  of  the  good  superintendent,  who  had  set  his  heart  on 
having  Jack  to  graduate  on  this  occasion.  But  "man  proposes 
and  God  disposes."  Since  Jack  could  have  no  part  in  the 
exercises,  we  will  pass  them  by  and  hurry  on  to  more  important 
things. 

Jack  had  been  in  bed  a  week  nursed  with  tenders!  solicitude 
by  Steve  and  Mose,  and  visited  by  numerous  friends.  He  and 
Joe  were  both  improving  rapidly,  when  one  afternoon  Mrs. 
Nixon  came  to  his  room  and  said  that  a  strange  lady  wanted 
to  see  him. 


110  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Jack,  very  much  surprised. 

"I  do  not  know.  She  would  not  say,  but  pleaded  to  see  you. 
She  is  tall,  dark,  and  really  handsome,  but  looks  as  if  she  had 
seen  some  great  trouble  or  sorrow. 

"Let  her  come  in,"  said  Jack  and  Steve  looked  around  and 
got  his  hat. 

"You  stay  right  here,  Steve.  I've  got  no  secrets  from  you 
and — and  I  think  I  know  who  she  is — I  want  you  to  stay  here." 

Presently  Mis'  Florence,  in  deep  mourning,  entered  the 
room  and  knelt  by  the  bed. 

"Jack,  you  dear,  dear  boy — at  last  I  see  you  again,"  and 
there  were  tears  in  her  dark  eyes.  Then  she  looked  up  at  Steve 
and  offered  her  hand. 

"You  are  Steve  Laney,  aren't  you? — the  young  man  who 
saved  Jack's  life."     Steve  bowed  awkwardly. 

"I  am  Steve  Laney, — but — Joe  saved  Jack — not  I." 

"Oh,  I  read  it  all  in  the  papers,  and  came  as  quickly  as 
I  could."  Mose  now  entered  the  room  and  almost  fell  as  he 
saw  the  visitor. 

"Gawd-a-mighty!"  he  exclaimed,  and  Mrs.  Florence  reached 
one  hand  to  him  and  smiled  through  her  tears. 

"Have  you  no  word  of  welcome  for  me,  Mose?"  she  asked. 

"I  dunno.  Mistis — deed  I  don't,  Dat's  des  accordin,"  Mose 
answered,  looking  from  the  window,  and  ignoring  her  hand, 
his  mind  busy  with  the  past. 

From  his  cot  by  the  window,  Joe  watched  the  visitor  un- 
easily. Jack  had  noted  the  heavy  mourning  and  the  lines  of 
suffering  on  the  pale  face.  He  noted,  too,  that  her  eyes  always 
shifted  from  his.  She  could  not  look  him  squarely  in  the  face. 
At  last  he  spoke: 

"Why  did  you  come?  Where  is  Arthur?  Do  take  a  chair, 
please,"  and  Steve  placed  a  rocker  near  her. 

"No,  Jack,  let  me  tell  you  what  I  must,  here  on  my  knees. 
Arthur  is  dead,"  and  her  voice  broke  with  sobs.  Jack  groaned 
in  sympathy  and  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"Oh,  when — how — "  he  began. 

"Ah!  but  are  you  strong  enough  to  bear  it?  Yes?  Jack, 
surely  in  death,  Arthur  atoned  for  all  the  sins  of  his  life.  He 
threw  a  little  child  from  in  front  of  a  fast  moving  train,  but 
was  caught  beneath  the  wheels  and  both  legs  cut  off.  He  lived 
two  days,  was  never  unconscious,  and  prayed  earnestly  to  God 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  111 

for  pardon,  and  peace — and,  oh,  Jack,  I  believe  he  was  saved." 

"In  corse  he  wuz,  Mistes.  De  Lawd  des  had  to  kill  him, 
maybe,  to  save  his  soul.  Doan  yo'  neber  doubt  it — if  Marse 
Arfur  axe  de  Lawd  to  save  him  he  shore  done  it.  He  doan 
turn  nobody  off  what  axes  help,"  declared  Mose. 

"He  won't  save  me— I  can't  get  peace— though  1  pray  day 
and  night,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Florence. 

"Maybe  you's  done  somebody  a  wrong  dat  you  ain't  neber 
righted.  Maybe  you  got  malice  er  envy  er  jealousy  in  yo'  heart," 
said  Mose.  And  Mrs.  Florence  turned  pale  as  death.  Steve 
stood  leaning  against  the  window  watching  the  suffering 
woman  with  his  heart  full  of  pity. 

"It  happened  last  Thursday  morning — the  very  day  of  your 
tragedy,  Jack,  and  he  was  buried  Saturday.  It  was  Monday 
when  I  saw  about  your  trouble,  and  I  came  as  quickly  as  I  could. 
I  had  promised  Arthur  to  come  to  you  and  bring  a  message 
from  him.  We  would  have  sent  for  you,  but  knew  you  wouldn't 
get  there  in  time." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you.  Mrs.  Florenc — I  know  how 
you  worshipped  your  boy.  What  was  his  message  to  me?" 
asked  Jack. 

"He  asked  that  you  forgive  him  for  all  the  mean  things 
he  had  said  and  done  to  you,  and  said  he  was  glad  you  had 
not  made  a  wreck  of  your  life  like  he  had.  He  was  very  weak 
from  loss  of  blood  and  could  not  talk  much,  but  he  spoke  your 
name  often." 

"I  forgave  him  long  ago,"  whispered  Jack. 

"Forgive  me,  too,  Jack." 

"I  forgave  you  when  you  sent  me  that,"  said  Jack,  pointing 
to  the  picture  of  his  mother,  which  had  been  brought  to  his 
room  the  day  after  the  tragedy,  and  when  I  forgave  you,  that 
peace  which  passeth  all  understanding  entered  my  heart.  I'll 
prove  that  I've  forgiven  you,"  and  Jack  put  one  arm  around 
her  neck,  leaned  his  head  close  to  her  and  whispered : 

"Mother ;  let  me  as  far  as  possible  fill  the  place  in  your 
heart  and  life  made  vacant  by  poor  Arthur's  untimely  death." 
But  to  his  surprise  Mrs.  Florence  drew  away  from  him,  and 
cried  out  in  bitterness  of  spirit 

"No,  No!  Wait!  You  don't  know — I  have  been  far  more 
wicked  and  cruel  than  you  think — you  don't  know  what  you 
say — you  will  hate  me — but  I  will  confess  everything.    I  plotted 


112  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

against  you  for  Arthur's  sake.  I  tried  to  wean  your  father's 
love  away  from  you.  I  cheated  you  of  your  birthright — I've 
been  an  imposter  and  a  thief!  Here!" — and  she  tore  a  paper 
from  her  bosom — "Here  is  your  father's  last  will.  I  stole  it 
from  his  pocket  when  he  was  brought  home  dead.  His  last 
thought  in  life  was  for  your  welfare.  Everything  is  yours — he 
left  $8,000  in  cash  for  me.  Most  of  that  is  gone.  Poor  Arthur 
was  wild  and  reckless,  and  always  in  trouble — but  thank  God, 
he's  safe  now." 

Jack  was  dazed  at  first  and  held  the  will  in  his  hand,  looking 
from  Steve  to  Mose  and  back  at  the  kneeling  figure  by  the  bed, 
unable  to  say  a  word.  His  lips  began  to  quiver,  as  he  began 
to  realize  what  had  happened. 

"Praise  Gawd !  Yes  Mis'  Florence,  I  got  a  welcome  fur  ye 
— an'  glory  to  de  Lawd,  dar's  more  rejoicin  ober  one  black 
sheep  dat  turns  white,  den  ober  a  paster  full  dat's  been  white  all 
de  time.  De  Lawd  gwine  ter  gib  ye  peace  now,  Mis'  Florence — 
hit's  a  comin!"  and  Mose  slapped  his  hands  and  laughed  happily, 
as  he  capered  around  the  room. 

"Oh,  God,  I  thank  Thee,"  whispered  Jack. 

'You— see — now,  Jack,  how  wicked  I've  been.  When  I  look 
back  and  see  the  deception  I  practiced,  and  how  I  plotted  and  plan- 
ned for  Arthur  against  you,  I  simply  loathe  and  detest  myself. 
I  can't  forgive  myself  and  God  won't  forgive  me — neither  can 
you.  Arthur  lost  all  love  and  respect  for  me,  but  I  regained  him, 
when  I  told  him  that  I  would  come  to  you,  and  as  far  as  lay  in 
my  power,  make  restitution.  Oh,  Jack,  how  I  have  suffered! 
Regret  and  remorse  have  eaten  into  my  soul,  and  the  nights  have 
been  so  full  of  misery  and  anguish  that  I  dared  not  extinguish 
the  light.  There's  no  need  of  a  hell.  To  be  alone  with  a  guilty 
conscience  is  hell  enough  for  anyone!"  cried  the  wretched 
woman,  rising  from  her  knees.  Steve  sprang  forward  and 
tenderly  placed  her  in  a  chair,  where  she  bowed  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"Lil  Marse,  say  sumpen,"  pleaded  Mose,  looking  with  com- 
passion on  the  weeping  woman.  "She  done  wrong  an  she  done 
'fessed  it  all — dat's  all  she  kin  do.    Can't  you  forgive  her?" 

"Forgive  her — why,  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  cried  Jack. 
"Everything  has  turned  out  for  the  best— I  would  not  have  it  dif- 
ferent for  the  world."    Then  he  called  in  a  voice  full  of  affection : 


\ 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  113 

"Mother!"  Slowly  the  bowed  head  was  raised,  and  a  look 
of  surprise  and  incredulity  gave  way  to  one  of  joy  and  peace,  as 
Mis'  Florence  saw  Jack's  outstretched  hands  and  she  again  fell 
on  her  knees  by  the  bed,  while  Jack's  arms  were  folded  about 
her  shoulders  and  he  pressed  his  first  kiss  on  her  brow: 

'Mother!  The  Unseen  Hand  guides  and  directs  all  things, 
making  good  come  of  evil,  and  sending  us  blessings  in  disguise." 

"Jack,  oh,  Jack.  I  feel  that  your  father  sees  and  knows, — 
and — why — Jack,  the  burden  is  gone — I'm  happy — I'm  free — 
and  can  it  be?  Am  I  indeed  saved?  Yes,  I  feel  the  power  of 
pardoning  blood." 

"J  knowed  de  blessin'  wuz  a  comin,"  declared  old  Mose,  and 
Joe  answered  with  a  bark  of  approval  and  wagged  his  tail 
joyously. 

Steve  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  escaped  through  the  open 
window,  joining  Nellie  and  Ina  on  the  lawn.  He  had  had  no 
word  with  Nellie  and  Mrs.  Nixon  had  been  ever  on  the  alert, 
never  allowing  Ina  to  enter  Jack's  room  unaccompanied. 

"What  do  you  think,  girls,"  Steve  exclaimed.  "Why  Jack 
is  almost  a  millionaire!  His  stepmother  has  just  presented  him 
with  his  father's  last  will  which  made  Jack  rich.  Now,  by  Heck ! 
I  guess  we'll  lose  him.  You  know  he  won't  stay  here,  now,  after 
becoming  heir  to  so  much  property.  It  must  be  something  great. 
She  said  everything  was  Jack's  except  eigth  thousand,  and  she 
spoke  as  if  that  was  quite  a  small  sum  compared  with  Jack's 
portion.    Yes,  Jacks'  a  goner  now!" 

CHAPTER  XV. 

"Gee!  Has  it  really  happened?  I've  always  expected  it," 
declared  Nellie. 

Steve  looked  at  Nellie  and  she  looked  at  Ina,  who  began  to 
study  the  toe  of  her  slipper,  the  rich  color  coming  and  going  in 
her  dark  oval  face.    Presently  she  spoke : 

"But  daddy  won't  let  him  go.  He  can't  do  without  Jack — 
I've  heard  him  say  so.  Why,  he  intends  promoting  Jack  to  over- 
seer of  spinning  soon  as  he  gets  well.  Mr.  Jones  is  going  to  su- 
perintend a  mill  somewhere  in  South  Carolina.  But  there — I 
ought  not  to  have  told  that!  I — I — "  There  was  a  break  in 
the  girl's  voice,  tears  came  to  her  eyes  and  she  fled  ignminously, 
leaving  Steve  and  Nellie  alone. 

Steve  had  long  pictured  this  hour  in  his  mind  and  had 
looked  forward  with  eager  anticipation  to  the  time  when  he 


114  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

could  pour  out  his  heart  to  the  object  of  his  adoration,  but  now 
he  felt  weak,  uncertain  and  afraid.  What  if  Nellie  repulsed 
him  and  refused  to  even  be  friends? 

"Let's — let's  sit  down  a  few  moments,"  he  stammered,  lead- 
ing Nellie  to  a  rustic  seat  near  them,  and  his  heart  thrilled  with 
hope  as  she  gazed  smilingly  after  Ina,  turned  her  honest  gray 
eyes  up  to  him  and  said  softly : 

"I  believe  they  love  each  other,  Steve." 

"I  think  so,  too,  darling — ah,  forgive  me!  I  am  so  accus- 
tomed to  calling  you  that  in  my  thoughts  that  I  did  so  almost 
unconsciously.  But,  Nellie,  dearest,  won't'  you  give  me  the 
right  to  call  you  something  even  nearer  and  dearer?"  and  Steve's 
hand  closed  over  hers. 

"Oh,  they'll  see  us,  Steve,  warned  Nellie,  glancing  appre- 
hensively toward  the  house,  the  blushes  mantling  her  fair  face. 
But  Steve  had  felt  the  thrill  of  her  clinging  fingers,  and  his  blood 
leaped  in  his  veins.  He  knew  that  the  tall  shrubbery  hid  them 
from  view,  and ; 

"Well,  let  them!"  he  cried  triumphantly. 

Then  Nellie  found  herself  crushed  in  his  arms,  and  almost 
suffocated  by  tender,  lingering  kisses.  At  last,  when  she  could 
speak  she  whispered : 

'Oh,  Steve,  I  didn't  know  love  was  like  this!"  Steve  pressed 
another  rapturous  kiss  on  the  quivering  lips  and  asked : 

"Like  what,  darling? — Tell  me,"  and  his  dark  face  glowed 
with  happiness. 

"It's — it's  like  heaven,  I  think!"  was  the  answer  that 
trembled  up  from  the  lapel  of  his  coat. 

"Yes,  sweetheart.  Heaven  on  earth.  Oh,  my  precious  one, 
you  have  been  enshrined  in  my  heart  for  years  and  my  inspira- 
tion always.  When  you  went  away  to  school,  I  knuckled  down 
to  hard  work  and  study,  hoping  to  become  worthy  of  you.  If  I 
could  bear  to  release  you  a  moment  I'd  show  you  something." 

"Well,  I  command  you  to  release  me,  sir!"  came  a  half 
smothered  voice. 

"I  won't  do  it.    There's  a  challenge  and  a  dare  in  that  com- 
mand," laughed  Steve  happily.    "But  I'll  let  you  have  the  use  of 
one  little  hand  and  you  may  feel  in  my  inside  breast  pocket 
right  over  my  heart  and  get  what  you  find  there." 

Nellie  did  as  she  was  bidden  and  drew  forth  a  little  flat  box. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  115 

"Open  it  and  see,  sweetheart."  Nellie  opened  it  and  found 
a  pressed  red  rose  carefully  wrapped  in  tissue  paper.  She  looked 
at  Steve  enquiringly: 

"It's  the  one  you  gave  me  years  ago  at  Sunday  School — and 
see,  it  is  still  fragrant." 

"Oh,  Steve!  And  you  have  kept  it  all  this  time?  I  never 
dreamed  of  such  a  thing,"  and  Nellie  put  the  rose  carefully  away 
again. 

"Little  girl,  that  precious  keepsake  has  been  more  to  me 
than  you  can  ever  know.  It  has  caused  me  to  be  strong  when 
tempted,  and  has  given  me  courage  when  all  looked  dark  and 
hopeless.  My  own,  I  know  in  my  heart  it's  true — I'm  not  dream- 
ing, but  I  am  longing  to  hear  you  say  it.  Now,  this  way — in 
perfect  trust,"  and  Steve  lifted  her  arms  and  placed  them  around 
his  neck.  "Now,  darling!"  And  then  he  pressed  her  to  his 
heart,  bent  his  dark  head  and  waited.  A  low  voice,  scarcely 
audible,  but  trembling  with  happiness  thrilled  him : 

"I  love  you,  Steve,  oh,  how  I  love  you!" 

"When  did  it  happen,  sweet?    Tell  me,"  eagerly. 

"I — I  don't  know— but  I  think  it  was  when  you  gave  your 
blood  to  save  Jack,"  she  said,  and  Steve  kissed  her  again  and 
again. 

"  'Scuse  me,  Marse  Steve.  I  hates  to  pester  ye  on  dis  gloris 
occasion," — Steve  released  Nellie,  who  was  blushing  furiously 
and  they  stood  up  before  the  grinning  Mose,  who  continued: 
"But  Marse  Jack  axe  me  to  tell  you  to  come  dar  if  you  ain't  too 
busy." 

"Bless  Jack's  heart,  and  darn  you  for  a  meddling  old  ras- 
cal!" said  Steve  with  a  grimace.  "I  never  was  more  busy  in  my 
life.  Why,  Mose,  we've  crammed  more  of  life  and  love  in  the 
past  few  minutes  than  some  people  experience  in  a  hundred 
years.    I'm  the  happiest  man  in  Georgia." 

"You  shore  orter  be,"  grinned  Mose,  looking  after  Nellie, 
who  was  running  toward  home. 

Steve  was  soon  with  Jack. 

Mrs.  Nixon  had  met  and  welcomed  Mrs.  LeGrande,  and 
had  taken  her  to  a  nice  cool  room,  which  she  was  warmly  urged 
to  consider  hers'  as  long  as  she  would  remain  with  them. 

"Steve,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  You  look  as  if  you'd 
been  communing  with  the  angels,"  said  Jack,  smiling  into  his 
friend's  happy  face. 


116  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

"Just  one,"  grinned  Steve,  "and  Mose  caught  us  red-handed. 
Jack,  I'm  so  happy  I'm  afraid.     Nellie  is  mine." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  Steve!     Congratulations.'  ' 

After  they  had  talked  it  over,  Jack  said : 

"Steve,  I  think  that  you  and  Mose  were  the  only  ones  in 
the  room  when — when — mother  made  her  confession — and — 
and— I—" 

"It  will  never  escape  my  lips,  Jack,"  Steve  assured  him, 
knowing  at  once  that  his  friend  wanted  to  shield  the  repentant 
woman  from  blame  or  censure.  "I  have  never  been  more  touched 
over  anything.  I  think  she  has  suffered  enough,  and  that  through 
suffering  she  has  been  perfected.  I'd  do  anything  to  shield  her, 
and  save  her  from  humiliation." 

"God  bless  you,  Steve.  You  are  one  of  the  finest  characters, 
I  have  ever  met  or  ever  expect  to  know.  I'm  proud  of  you  and 
your  grand  principles — your  gentleness,  tenderness  and  charity." 

"Oh,  hush,  you  make  me  ashamed.  I  do  hope  to  be  worthy 
of  the  pure  sweet  girl  who  has  given  me  her  heart.  But,  oh, 
Jack,  how  we  shall  all  hate  for  you  to  leave  us.  Of  course,  you'll 
go  home,  now?"    Steve  faltered. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  I  haven't  had  time  to  think  what  I 
shall  do,"  replied  Jack. 

The  days  passed  on.  Steve  went  back  to  his  work,  the  next 
Monday,  leaving  Mrs.  Florence  to  nurse  Jack.  Joe  could  walk 
about  the  room  now,  but  limped  painfully.  Ina  was  allowed  to 
go  in  and  out  of  Jack's  room  as  she  pleased,  now  that  his  mother 
was  always  present,  and  the  patient  received  such  loving  care 
that  he  often  declared  he  wasn't  going  to  try  to  get  well  at  all. 

One  day  Jack  and  Mrs.  Florence  were  alone  and  he  spoke 
softly  and  tenderly : 

"Mother,  how  do  you  like  Ina?" 

"She's  a  dear  sweet  girl — I  love  her,"  was  the  answer. 

"And  so  do  I,"  whispered  Jack,  kissing  her  hand.  "But  we 
are  both  so  young,  and  Ina  has  three  years  in  school  yet.  I  sup- 
pose it  would  not  be  right  or  honorable  for  me  to  address  her, 
or  let  her  know  my  heart.  I  must  wait  until  she  has  finished — 
must  I  not  ?  But  it  is  hard  to  wait  so  long  without  one  little  ray 
of  hope  to  live  on.    What  must  I  do?" 

The  tears  came  into  the  woman's  eyes.  Jack  opened  his 
heart  to  her  just  as  if  she  had  really  been  his  mother  and  she 
was  deeply  touched  by  the  compliment. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  117 

"My  dear,  let  your  own  good  judgment  lead  you.  I  know 
you  will  do  what  is  right.  I  can't  advise  you.  But  talk  about 
'hope' — why,  I  saw  in  less  than  a  day  after  my  arrival,  that  you 
two  loved  each  other.  She  feels  for  you  all  that  you  feel  for  her. 
You  have  everything  to  hope  for,  Jack." 

"If  I  were  only  sure  of  that  I  could  wait,  patiently,"  said 
Jack. 

"I  know  it's  true,  dear  boy,"  the  woman  affirmed  smilingly, 
pushing  back  his  damp  golden  hair,  with  a  caressing  touch.  Then 
after  a  moment,  she  continued : 

"Jack,  it  seems  awful  to  be  so  happy,  when  poor  Arthur  has 
so  lately  been  buried,  but  I  can't  help  it.  All  the  burden  of  guilt 
and  fear  has  gone  from  my  soul — the  barriers  between  you  and 
me  have  been  burned  away  by  fiery  trials — all  the  dross  has  been 
consumed  and  the  gold  refined  in  our  natures.  We  stand  re- 
vealed to  each  other,  and  love  each  other.  Oh,  Jack,  how  could 
you  ever  forgive  me?" 

"Mother,  it's  all  over — let's  bury  the  past  in  oblivion  and 
never  speak  of  it  again.  I  can  see  and  realize  it  was  all  for  the 
best.  I  can  look  back  and  see  that  I  must  have  tried  your  pati- 
ence terribly.  I  was  jealous  and  stubborn,  and  had  a  horrid  tem- 
per. When  I  came  near  killing  Arthur,"  and  he  shuddered,  "I 
learned  a  bitter  lesson.  From  that  day  on,  I  have  been  able  to 
control  my  temper.  Had  I  not  left  home,  and  been  thrown  on 
my  own  resources,  I  should  never  have  made  anything  of  myself. 
I'm  sorry  for  all  the  mistakes  and  heart  aches  of  the  past,  but  I 
thank  God  for  His  goodness ;  for  the  dear  friends  who  took  me  in 
and  encouraged  me  to  be  something  and  do  something;  for  the 
success  that  has  come  to  me ;  for  the  joy  of  this  hour,  when  I  feel 
your  caressing  touch  and  am  confident  of  your  genuine  affection, 
and  for  the  future  which  seems  rosy  with  hope.  All  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God,  and  are  called  according 
to  His  purpose.  I  don't  know  what  the  last  clause  of  the  quota- 
tion means,  mother,  but  I  do  know  that  I  love  God,  and  that  all 
things  have  worked  together  for  my  good." 

"Even  this  thing  that  came  near  ending  your  life,  Jack? 
Surely,  there  can  no  good  come  of  that  dear.  That  nasty  knife 
came  near  putting  you  away  for  good." 

"Mother,  the  tragedy  revealed  to  me  the  value  of  Steve's 
friendship,  and  it  brought  him  and  Nellie  together.  Later,  I 
may  learn  other  good  that  has  resulted  from  it,"  smiled  Jack. 


118  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

Mr.  Nixon  now  came  in  from  the  mill  accompanied  by  Bax- 
tex  and  Mr.  Jones. 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  it  was  stopping  time,"  said  Jack 
brightly.  "Mother  just  makes  time  fly."  All  had  previously  met 
the  lady,  and  each  had  a  pleasant  greeting  for  her.  It  had  some- 
how gotten  out  that  the  lady  had  found  the  will  in  an  old  coat 
pocket,  and  that  she  had  brought  it  to  Jack  as  fast  as  she  could, 
though  it  put  her  out  of  house  and  home.  Mose  had  dropped 
a  word  here  and  there  with  great  cunning  which  had  yielded 
abundant  harvest  of  kind  thoughts  for  the  sad-faced  woman,  who 
nursed  Jack  so  tenderly.  They  knew  that  because  of  a  previous 
will,  which  had  given  her  everything,  Jack  had  rebelled  and  run 
away  from  home. 

"Still  improving,  I  see,"  came  the  cheery  voice  of  Mr. 
Nixon,  placing  chairs  for  Baxter  and  Mr.  Jones. 

"Yes,  the  doctor  says  I  may  get  out  and  go  where  I  please  in 
a  day  or  so.  The  cuts  have  all  healed  nicely.  I  want  to  get  back 
to  work  next  Monday." 

"Now,  Jack,  not  so  fast.  It  ain't  been  but  three  weeks  today, 
since  you  was  considered  worm-food,"  warned  Baxter,  uneasily. 

"You  musn't  rush.  Jack,  though  every  one  is  wild  to  see  you 
at  your  post.  We  were  afraid  that  since  you  had  come  into  such  a 
fortune,  you  would  turn  your  back  on  us,"  added  Mr.  Jones. 

"I'll  never  forget  the  friends  who  have  been  all  the  world  to 
me  since  I  came  here  a  little  more  than  six  years  ago,"  replied 
Jack,  warmly,  looking  from  one  to  another. 

Ina  came  to  the  door,  smiled  into  the  room,  flashed  a  look 
at  Jack  that  set  his  heart  to  beating  like  a  trip  hammer,  and 
asked  Mrs.  LeGrande  to  go  with  her  for  a  little  walk.  The  woman 
excused  herself  from  the  gentlemen  and  went  with  Ina.  She  had 
been  out  but  very  little,  though  Jack  had  urged  her  to  take  more 
exercise  and  fresh  air. 

When  she  had  gone,  the  gentlemen  looked  at  Jack  and  each 
other,  as  if  expecting  something.  Jack  was  puzzled. 

"So  you  won't  leave  us,  dear  boy?  The  thought  that  you 
could  not  be  induced  to  stay  has  caused  me  to  lose  lots  of  sleep," 
said  Mr.  Nixon,  moving  his  chair  closer  to  Jack's. 

"I  like  the  mill  better  than  the  farm,"  said  Jack,  slowly.  "I 
don't  know  a  thing  about  farming.  Still  I  guess  it's  my  duty  to 
go  back  and  take  my  place  in  the  world  of  farmers.  I  almost 
wish  that  father's  last  will  had  never  been  found.    I  had  gotten 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY  119 

accustomed  to  depending  on  myself  for  everything.  To  know 
that  his  last  thoughts  were  for  me,  gives  me  more  pleasure  than 
to  possess  the  property,  though  it  consists  of  six  hundred  acres 
of  the  best  land  in  Montgomery  county,"  said  Jack. 

"I'll  swigger !  Well,  I  guess  you  won't  stay  in  the  barn  atter 
inheritin'  all  that,"  exclaimed  Baxter  triumphantly. 

"I'll  never  have  a  room  I  like  better,"  declared  Jack. 

"We  are  desperately  afraid  we  can't  keep  you  at  all,"  said 
Mr.  Nixon,  sadly.  "Jack,  don't  leave  use.  Jones  is  leaving  to 
accept  a  better  position — going  to  superintend  a  mill  in  South 
Carolina,  soon  as  we  can  fill  his  place  here."  Jack  smiled  at  his 
overseer. 

"Mr.  Jones,  I'm  as  glad  for  you  as  if  the  good  fortune  were 
my  own.  But  I  know  you  will  be  badly  missed  here.  You  have 
made  one  of  the  best  overseers,  and  I  can  look  forward  and  see 
our  mill  boys  and  girls  rising  up  and  calling  you  blessed,  just  as 
they  are  doing  for  Mr.  Nixon." 

"A  superintendent  certainly  has  every  opportunity  for 
helping  the  boys  and  girls  and  I  hope  to  do  some  good.  I've  had 
a  good  example  set  before  me,"  nodding  at  Nixon,  "and  if  I  fail 
to  follow  it,  I  hope  somebody  will  kick  me  out." 

Here,  Steve  entered,  and  received  a  cheery  greeting  from  all. 
Baxter  continued  the  conversation. 

"I  don't  believe  there's  another  superintendent  livin'  that 
takes  sich  a  interest  in  his  people  as  Mr.  Nixon  does." 

"Oh,  hush,  Baxter,"  protested  the  superintendent,  "that's 
just  because  you  don't  know." 

"I  don't  believe  there  are  many  who  would  take  i  na  boy 
tramp  and  his  dog,  and  give  them  both  a  chance,"  smiled  Jack. 
"You,  Mr.  Jones,  and  Mr.  Baxter,  have  been  the  best  friends  to 
me  a  boy  ever  had." 

Mr.  Nixon  looked  out  across  the  hills  for  a  moment,  with  a 
happy  expression  on  his  face,  then  he  said  softly:  "I'd  rather 
have  a  few  boys  point  to  me  with  love  and  gratitude,  and  say, 
'he  gave  me  a  chance ;  he  encouraged  and  helped  me  to  be  a  man ; 
he  is  responsible  for  my  success,' — Yes,  I'd  rather  have  that  than 
the  riches  of  Rockefeller,  or  to  be  president  of  the  nation." 

Then  he  turned  to  Steve :  "Steve,  help  us  to  keep  Jack." 
The  superintendent  had  decided  that  his  wife's  suspicions  were 
absurd,  and  that  Jack  had  no  thought  for  Ina,  except  as  a  friend. 
He  had  learned  to  love  the  boy  almost  as  a  son,  and  to  think  that 


120  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY 

now  Jack  would  go  back  to  his  country  home,  and  be  lost  to  him, 
perhaps  forever,  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the  good  man,  who  had 
been  denied  the  blessing  of  having  a  son  of  his  own.  Mr.  Nixon 
continued : 

"We  had  set  our  hearts  on  having  Jack  take  Mr.  Jones'  place, 
and  we  know  he  would  want  you  for  his  second  hand.  So,  now, 
Steve,  you  see  it's  to  your  interest  to  help  us  keep  him."  Steve 
looked  dazed  for  a  moment.  Then  he  sprang  up  in  eager  excite- 
ment: 

"Do  you  think  we  could  do  it?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Jones  says  he's  made  Jack  do  all  the  work  just  because  he 
was  expecting  this,  and  says  he  can't  be  beat.  We  are  willing  to 
trust  Jack,"  answered  Mr.  Nixon,  smiling  over  Steve's  animation. 

Jack's  lips  quivered  when  he  tried  to  speak  and  for  a  moment 
he  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

"Don't  say  you  can't  stay,  Jack!"  pleaded  Baxter.  "Steve's 
atter  my  Nellie,  an'  she's  crazy  about  him,  an'  I  recon  if  he  gets 
to  be  second  hand  I'll  have  to  consent.  I  told  'em  I  weren't  goin' 
to  consent  till  Steve  worked  up  to  that,  but  darned  if  I  thought 
it  would  come  so  soon!"  Steve's  dark  face  turned  a  dark  red. 
Mr.  Nixon  looked  greatly  interested,  and  congratulated  Steve. 
Baxter  continued : 

"Now,  if  Jack  was  in  love  with  one  of  our  pretty  girls,  we 
could  keep  him  without  any  trouble  at  all." 

Jack  turned  pale,  at  this,  and  turned  to  Mr.  Nixon  with  such 
longing  in  his  blue  eyes  that  the  man  rose  from  his  chair  and  went 
to  him;  placing  both  hands  on  his  shoulders,  he  bent  and  asked 
softly : 

"What  is  it,  my  boy?  Must  you  refuse  us?"  Jack  turned  to 
the  others  appealingly: 

"Will  you  all  take  a  few  moments  out  on  the  porch,  and  let 
me  speak  to  Mr.  Nixon?" 

"Sure,  we  will,  my  boy,"  said  Jones,  smiling  and  leading  the 
way  out,  followed  by  Baxter.  As  Steve  passed  out  his  eyes  shin- 
ing with  hope  and  anticipation,  he  bent  and  whispered  in  Jack's 
ear: 

"That's  right,  old  boy !  Good  luck  to  you — you  are  going  to 
win." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  121 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

When  the  audience  retired,  a  feeling  of  utter  desolation 
swept  over  poor  Jack.  What  was  he  about  to  do?  Who  was  he, 
to  dare  aspire  to  the  heart  of  this  great  and  good  man's  only 
child,  the  sweetest  and  most  lovable,  the  most  bewitching  and 
tantalizingly  beautiful  girl  in  Georgia?  He  felt  that  in  loving 
Ina,  he  had  betrayed  the  trust  and  friendship  of  the  noble  su- 
perintendent who  had  opened  his  heart  and  home  to  him.  Mr. 
Nixon  had  done  so  much  for  him,  could  he  ask  for  the  man's 
dearest  and  most  treasured  possession?  No,  he  would  go  away 
and  leave  this  sweet  girl  for  some  one  more  worthy. 

But  here  Jack's  reasoning  took  another  turn.  His  heart 
rebelled.  W7ho  would  ever  be  worthy  of  Ina?  Who  could  be 
more  worthy  than  he?  His  character,  he  knew,  was  spotless. 
He  had  lived  a  clean  life.  How  glad  he  was  of  that.  Jack  rose 
to  his  feet.  There  was  a  lump  in  his  throat,  his  lips  quivering  and 
the  color  surged  over  his  fair  cheeks  as  he  faced  the  man  who 
had  been  his  best  friend,  holding  the  chair  for  support. 

"Mr.  Nixon,  I— I — "  Jack  choked  down. 

"Sit  down,  my  boy,  you  are  too  weak  to  stand.  Why,  what  is 
the  matter?  Does  the  wound  pain  you?"  And  Mr.  Nixon  gently 
forced  Jack  back  into  the  reclining  chair  and  bent  over  him 
anxiously. 

"No,  oh,  no!  The  wound  has  healed  nicely — I'm  almost 
entirely  well.     But — "  Jack  again  faltered. 

"Jack,  you  alarm  me.  You  are  flushed  and  nervous — you 
are — " 

"I'm  in  love — that's  all!"  Jack  blurted  out,  "and  it  makes 
me  miserable  and  lonely  to  see  how  happy  Steve  and  Nellie  are 
when  I  don't  dare  hope  for  such  happiness  myself." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Nixon,  "and  why  can't  you  hope? 
Surely,  no  girl  in  her  right  mind  would  turn  you  down,  Jack. 
I'm  glad  you  are  in  love,  if  as  Baxter  says,  that  will  keep  you 
here.  But  who  is  the  lucky  girl?"  and  Mr.  Nixon  smiled  encour- 
agingly upon  Jack. 

"Mr.  Nixon,  you  have  always  been  so  good  and  kind  to  me 
that  I—" 

"Yes,  yes.  Tell  me  all  about  it,  my  boy.  I'll  see  you  through," 
said  Mr.  Nixon,  wondering  who  the  girl  could  be. 


122  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Don't  condemn  me,"  pleaded  Jack,  grasping  the  man's  hand. 
"I  could  not  help  it — I  never  can  help  it — I'd  die  for  her  any 
minute  if — " 

"Yes,  I  see  you've  got  a  serious  case  of  it,  Jack — I've  gone 
through  the  same  experience  and  know  how  to  sympathize  with 
you.  But  to  live  for  her  is  better,  and  she'll  appreciate  it  more. 
But  'condemn'  you?  I  don't  understand.  You  haven't  fallen  in 
love  with  some  one  unworthy,  I  hope?" 

"No,  no.  I'm  so  unworthy  of  her.  I'll  never  be  worthy — but, 
oh,  I'd  gladly  serve  as  did  Jacob  for  Rachel,  if  I  might  win  her — 
your  sweet  girl — beautiful  Ina!" 

Mr.  Nixon  turned  pale,  but  smiled  into  Jack's  eyes  and  held 
his  hand  firmly.    It  was  a  serious  thing  to  think  about. 

"My  boy,  you  surprise  me.  I  haven't  seen  a  thing  that 
pointed  to  this,  and — what  does  Ina  say?  She  is  so  young — my 
only  baby,"  stammered  Mr.  Nixon. 

"Oh,  sir!  surely  you  don't  think  I'd  take  advantage  of  her 
youth  and  innocence — or  your  goodness  to  me,  and  address  her 
without  your  permission?  I  have  never  by  word  or  look  let  her 
know  the  secret  of  my  heart.  I  never  shall  without  your  con- 
sent." 

• 

"God  bless  you,  Jack,  there  are  precious  few  such  young 
men  who  have  such  a  high  sense  of  honor.  You  have  never  at 
anytime  failed  to  come  up  to  the  highest  standard.  I'd  rather 
give  my  darling  up  to  you  than  to  any  one  else' on  earth,  if  you 
can  win  her.  But  you  are  both  young.  There  is  plenty  of  time. 
Let  her  finish  school." 

"I  can  wait  and  work  patiently,  if  I  have  your  approval," 
smiled  Jack,  happily,  drawing  his  shoulders  up  and  holding  his 
head  erect,  feeling  that  now  he  could  conquer  the  world. 

"You  may  not  win  her  mother's  consent  quite  so  easily," 
warned  Mr.  Nixon.     "She  has  always  said  that  no  one  should 
take  our  baby  from  us.     But  we  can  accomplish  a  lot  while  Ina 
is  in  school.    Now,  will  vou  accept  the  spinning  room,  Jack?" 
help." 

"If  vou  are  willing  to  risk  me,  I'll  do  my  best  with  Steve's 
help." 

Mr.  Nixon's  face  expressed  the  relief  and  pleasure  he  felt, 
as  he  stepped  to  the  open  window  and  called  to  Jones,  Baxter 
and  Steve,  who  were  standing  at  the  other  end  of  the  long  porch. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  123 

They  all  returned  and  every  eye  was  focused  on  Jack's  happy 
face. 

"I  don't  know  what's  happened,"  laughed  Baxter,  "but  I'll 
swigger  if  there  ain't  a  smashin'  change  in  the  atmosphere!" 

Jones  knew  at  once  that  Mr.  Nixon  had  gained  his  point, 
and  that  Jack  would  take  on  the  responsibilities  of  the  spinning 
room,  and  he  was  greatly  relieved.  He  felt  that  no  one  could 
come  in  and  fill  the  place  so  well  as  Jack,  whom  every  one  loved 
and  respected,  and  he  was  confident  that  Jack  would  fill  the  place 
with  complete  satisfaction  to  the  company. 

Steve's  face  grew  radiant,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  when  he 
saw  the  joy  and  light  pictured  on  the  face  of  his  beloved  friend, 
and  he  walked  to  his  side  and  laid  his  hand  lovingly  on  Jack's 
shoulder,  expressing  in  the  warmth  of  his  touch,  the  congratu- 
lations of  his  heart.  Jack  understood,  reached  up  and  clasped  his 
hand. 

Mr.  Nixon  pointed  to  them  with  a  gesture  of  love  and  pride, 
turned  to  Jones,  and  Baxter,  made  a  bow  and  said : 

"I  want  you  to  meet  my  new  spinning  room  man,  Mr.  Le- 
Grande  and  his  second  hand,  Mr.  Laney."  Just  as  the  words 
left  his  lips,  Mrs.  LeGrande,  Mrs.  Nixon,  Ina  and  Nellie  paused 
at  the  door. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Nellie,  joyfully;  then  blushed  as  she 
remembered  that  her  father  had  told  Steve  he  must  wait  for 
her  until  he  had  reached  just  such  a  position.  Steve  looked  at 
her  triumphantly,  while  Baxter  taking  it  all  in,  exclaimed : 

"Darned,  if  I  don't  believe  somebody's  been  workin'  a  rabbit 
foot  on  me!  I've  been  tricked  an'  trapped  slick  as  a  button. 
Nixon,  I  wouldn't  a  thought  it  of  you!"  and  Baxter  was  a  comical 
looking  sight  trying  to  hide  the  pleasure  that  he  felt  over 
Steve's  promotion. 

"Congratulations  are  in  order,"  laughed  Mr.  Jones. 

"They  certainly  are,"  agreed  Nixon.  Mrs.  Nixon  hurried 
forward,  followed  by  Mrs.  LeGrande,  both  congratulating  the 
"boys"  on  their  success. 

"But,"  said  Mrs.  LeGrande,  and  her  voice  choked  with  tears : 
"Oh,  how  can  I  go  back  home  and  leave  my  boy  here?"  Jack 
pulled  her  head  down  on  his  shoulder,  stroked  her  hair  lovingly, 
and  whispered  something  in  her  ear  that  made  her  smile  through 
her  tears  as  he  released  her. 


UNCLE  MOSE" 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  125 

Steve  had  gone  to  the  door  where  Nellie  stood  blushing 
happily,  and  Ina  heard  him  say  softly : 

"Sweetheart,  you  are  mine  now,"  and  as  Nellie  looked  into 
his  dark  eyes  with  such  a  world  of  love  and  trust,  she  took  a  red 
rose  from  her  breast  and' pinned  it  on  Steve's  coat. 

Ina  was  wearing  roses,  too,  and  her  hand  involuntarily  rose 
to  them  as  she  glanced  toward  Jack,  who  regarded  her  wistfully. 
Mrs.  Nixon  divined  Ina's  thought,  gave  her  a  smile  and  nodded 
her  head  encouragingly.  Ina  blushed  furiously,  but  stepped  for- 
ward bravely  and  exclaimed : 

"Steve  shall  not  have  all  the  roses,  Jack!"  and  while  her 
trembling  fingers  fastened  the  rose  to  the  bosom  of  his  cool, 
blouse  shirt,  she  felt  the  tumultuous  throbbings  of  his  heart,  blue 
eyes  looked  into  brown,  soul  spoke  to  soul  in  a  silence  more  elo- 
quent and  thrilling  than  words,  and  with  mutual  understanding. 

"God,"  whispered  Jack  reverently,  while  the  passionate 
blood  of  his  ancestors  rushed  riotiously  through  his  veins  almost 
compelling  him  to  clasp  her  to  his  heart  and  defy  the  world  to 
separate  them.  But  much  as  he  loved  Ina,  he  loved  honor  more, 
and  his  lips  were  sealed,  though  now  there  was  an  abiding  joy 
in  his  heart  that  would  brighten  the  coming  days  of  separation 
with  the  rainbow  of  hope. 

"Steve  shan't  have  all  the  roses,"  she  had  said,  and  there 
was  a  sweet,  shy,  hidden  meaning  to  the  innocent  assertion,  that 
only  Jack  comprehended: 

"Now,  fo'  de  Lawd,  what  am  de  mattah  in  here?"  exclaimed 
Mose,  entering  the  room  with  Joe  at  his  heels,  and  looking  around 
anxiously.  "Marse  Jack,  you  ain't  gone  an  had  a  spell,  now,  is 
yo?"      Everybody  laughed. 

"Yes,  we've  all  had  spells,  an'  tricks  has  been  played  on  the 
rest  of  us,"  explained  Baxter. 

"Now,  doan  dat  beat  de  diner!"  and  Mose  grinned  expect- 
antly, as  he  fumbled  with  his  hat,  looking  from  one  happy  face 
to  another,  and  waiting  to  be  enlightened. 

"Jack  will  be  spinning  room  overseer  soon  as  he's  able," 
smiled  Mr,  Nixon,  "and  Steve  will  be  his  assistant.  They  are 
both  good  boys,  and  to  see  them  climb  the  ladder  of  success  has 
been  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  my  life." 

"De  land  sakes !  Marse  Jack,  you  ain't  gwine  home  to  de 
plantation?'  'and  there  was  a  ring  of  disappointment  in  the  old 
man's  tone. 


126  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Not  yet,  Mose;  I  love  mill  work  and  shall  stick  to  it."  And 
/ack  stooped  to  pet  old  Joe,  who  stopped  and  looked  lovingly 
in  his  face,  wagging  his  tail  and  saying  plain  as  words,  that  he 
rejoiced  to  see  his  young  master  so  much  improved. 

Presently,  Mr.  Jones,  Baxter,  Nellie  and  Steve  took  their 
departure,  followed  to  the  porch  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nixon  and  Ina, 
leaving  Jack,  Mrs.  LeGrande  and  Mose  alone.  Mose  began  to 
fumble  in  his  pockets,  and  presently  he  pulled  out  a  little  package 
carefully  wrapped  in  a  red  handkerchief  while  he  grinned 
sheepishly : 

"LiF  Marse,  I  got  sumpin  fo'  yo."  And  when  the  handker- 
chief was  removed,  Jack  saw  a  splendid  likeness  of  old  Mose. 
"I'se  eighty  fo'  year  ole,  HI'  Marse,  an  da's  de  onliest  pickter  I 
ever  had  tuck.  Tuther  day  de  pickter  man  cum  along,  he  did,  an 
Mis'  Baxter  she  say:  'Now,  Mose,  you  des  gotter  set  fur  one. 
You  ain't  gwine  ter  live  allers  an  yo'  fren's  will  be  mighty  proud 
to  have  a  pickter  of  you.'  I  'lowed  maybe  dat's  so,  an  I  des  put  on 
my  Sunday  duds  an  had  me  bewty  struck — ha !  ha !" 

"I'm  so  glad  you  did,  Uncle  Mose,  but  I'm  so  greedy  and 
jealous,  I've  a  good  mind  to  keep  them  all  for  myself,"  declared 
Jack.  "Doesn't  he  make  a  fine  looking  picture,  mother?"  and 
Mrs.  LeGrande  examined  the  photographs  with  interest. 

"Indeed,  he  does,"  she  heartily  agreed.  "I  hope  there's  one 
for  me,  Mose?'  'and  the  old  darkey  proudly  told  her  she  could 
have  her  choice. 

"I  hope,  though,  that  I'll  get  another  one  when  you  are 
a  hundred  years  old,  Mose,  if  I'm  living  then,"  said  Jack,  as  he 
too,  selected  a  picture  for  himself. 

"I'm  the  happiest  boy  in  Georgia,  Mose,"  declared  Jack. 

"Is  yo'  now,  Marse  Jack?  Dat's  des  prezactly  what  Marse 
Steve  said  tuther  day  when  I  kotch  him  a  kissin — sumbody.  Is 
you  bin  kissin'  sumbody,  too,  honey?" 

"No,"  smiled  Jack,  "not  exactly,  but  I  will  some  sweet  day." 

A  few  days  later — on  Saturday  evening  before  Jack  was  to 
assume  his  duties  the  following  Monday  morning,  Mr.  Nixon 
gave  a  banquet  to  the  officers  and  overseers  of  the  mill  and 
their  wives  in  honor  to  Jack  and  to  Mrs.  LeGrande  who  was 
to  return  home  on  the  following  Tuesday.  There  were  speeches., 
toasts  and  music  interspersed  between  couress  and  the  fragrance 
of  the  floral  decorations,  the  flash  of  bright  silverware  and  happy 
faces,  gave  old  Mose  a  delightful  thrill  as  he,  in  spotless  white, 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  127 

helped  to  serve  the  guests.  Of  course,  Steve,  Nellie  and  Mr. 
Baxter  were  present  and  the  occasion  was  one  of  unadulterated 
pleasure. 

When  Jack  approached  the  mill  on  Monday  morning,  he 
was  met  at  the  gate  by  nearly  every  inmiate  of  the  spinning 
room.  The  boys  gathered  him  and  in  spite  of  his  protests,  lifted 
him  on  their  shoulders,  cheered  on  by  Mr.  Nixon.  The  crowd 
parted,  making  an  opening  through  which  the  boys  could  pass 
and  as  they  bore  Jack  on  toward  the  mill,  the  girls  pelted  him 
with  flowers,  while  rousing  cheers  rent  the  air. 

A  delegation  had  been  ordered  to  "initiate"  Steve,  but  he 
had  "caught  on,"  and  instead  of  coming  to  the  mill  the  usual 
route,  he  had  gone  around  and  entered  through  the  engine  room, 
giving  them  the  slip.  There  were  stairways  in  front  and  back  of 
the  mill  and  the  boys  entered  the  weave  room  the  front  way, 
marched  with  Jack  down  the  big  "spare  alley,"  up  the  back 
steps  to  the  card  room,  crossed  it  to  the  front,  then  up  to  the  big 
spinning  room,  where  they  deposited  him  in  the  overseer's  chair 
in  front  of  the  desk.  Here  joy  and  excitement  gave  place  to  deep- 
est respect,  and  smiling  and  bowing,  the  boys  quietly  dispersed, 
going  each  to  his  own  place  of  duty,  leaving  Jack  flushed  and 
happy. 

Steve  entered  and  closed  the  door.  "By  gum,  Jack,  let's 
pinch  each  other,  and  see  if  we  are  asleep  and  dreaming.  Who 
would  have  thought  that  this  would  ever  happen  to  me.  You 
deserve  it — but  I  don't.  I'll  do  my  best  for  you  though,  and  I 
want  to  tell  you  right  now,  don't  fail  to  call  me  down  if  I  make 
a  mistake.  I've  got  too  much  at  stake  to  fail.  Mr.  Baxter  says, 
now,  that  I  shan't  have  Nellie  till  I  prove  that  I  can  make  good. 
He  said  at  first  that  when  I  reached  the  place  of  second  hand  I 
could  have  her.  If  I  thought  I'd  fail,  I'd  kidnap  her  before  an- 
other twenty-four  hours." 

"And  I've  got  to  make  good,  too,  Steve.  I've  got  something 
greater  than  ambition  to  spur  me  on  to  victory.  Look  here;  I 
know  you  will  keep  my  secret,"  and  Jack  took  from  his  inside  coat 
pocket,  a  fragrant,  pressed  rose,  carefully  wrapped,  and  pressed 
it  to  his  lips. 

"All  the  roses  are  not  yours,  Steve." 

"I  hope  not — I'd  be  miserable  if  some  did  not  bloom  for  you, 
Jack." 


128  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

Then  with  an  effort,  sentiment  was  laid  aside  for  stern  duty, 
as  the  whistles  blew  and  work  began. 

Jack  did  not  return  to  his  room  in  the  barn,  though  he  gave 
it  up  reluctantly.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nixon  wanted  to  keep  him  with 
them,  but  this  brought  such  vigorous  protest  from  the  Baxters 
who  looked  on  Jack  as  a  part  of  their  own  family,  that  they  did 
not  press  the  matter,  and  our  young  hero,  soon  found  himself 
in  the  best  room  at  Baxter  Heights,  while  Mose  was  given  the 
pretty  room  in  the  barn,  and  kept  Joe  for  protection  and  company. 

September  had  come  and  the  college  students  were  saying 
"good-bye"  to  home  again,  and  returning  to  their  studies.  Jack 
had  been  working  hard,  patiently  and  successfully,  and  had 
reduced  waste  and  tangled  yarn  to  an  amazing  extent.  Mr.  Jones 
had  been  considered  one  of  the  best  spinners  in  the  .  State,  but 
Jack  was  exceeding  him  both  in  production  and  in  the  quality  of 
his  yarn.  The  company  made  a  study  of  the  weekly  reports,  did 
some  calculating  and  marveled. 

Steve  had  made  an  able  assistant,  and  had  at  last  won  Bax- 
ter's consent  to  have  a  Christmas  wedding.     Mr.  Baxter  said 

they'd  have  to  consent  in  self-defense  for  Steve  just  about  stayed 
there. 

Jack  stood  at  the  mill  window  the  day  Ina  left,  and  waved 
her  a  good-bye  as  she  went  to  the  depot.  She  looked  up  and 
smiled  bravely  through  her  tears.  Jack  had  longed  for  a  word 
with  her  till  his  heart  ached  uncontrolably,  but  he  did  not  dare 
trust  himself  in  her  presence  alone,  and  he  had  carefully  guard- 
ed against  it.  Mrs.  Nixon  had  not  gone  with  Ina  to  the  depot. 
She  had  never  been  brave  enough  to  watch  the  train  bear  her 
darling  away,  and  pleaded  a  slight  headache. 

Mr.  Nixon  was  with  Ina,  and  saw  the  look  of  longing  on  the 
face  of  Jack,  and  the  disappointment  of  Ina.  His  heart  ached 
for  Jack,  but  he  had  never  dreamed  that  Ina's  heart  was  aching 
too. 

"Pet,"  he  said,  slipping  his  arm  around  her,  "the  time  will 
soon  pass,  and  then — " 

"Daddy,  oh,  Daddy,  why  didn't  Jack  come  and  say  good-bye 
to  me?"  she  exclaimed. 

"Darling,  perhaps  he  couldn't  bear  it.  Be  good,  now,  sweet- 
est. Study  hard  and  try  to  be  worthy  of  some  noble  man's  love. 
Do  you — do  you  want  to  send  Jack  a  message?  Daddy  will  de- 
liver it  if  you  do,"  stroking  her  hand. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  129 

"You  are  the  best  old  daddy  in  the  whole  wide  world,"  she 
whispered,  kissing  him.  "Would — would  it  be  improper  for  me 
to  send  Jack  a  picture  of  mine?" 

"Ha!  ha!  I  just  promised  the  young  rascal  to  give  him  one 
myself.  Here  is  something  he  sent  you."  And  Mr.  Nixon  gave 
Ina  large  envelope  and  led  her  to  a  quiet  corner  of  the  waiting 
room.  "Don't  you  ever  let  your  mother  know  about  this,"  he  cau- 
tioned her. 

Ina  opened  the  envelope  and  found  a  fine  photograph  of 
Jack,  and  on  the  back  was  written :  "Keep  my  memory  green." 
With  many  blushes  Ina  took  from  her  bosom  an  envelope  of  simi- 
lar size  containing  a  photo  of  herself  and  gave  it  to  her  father. 
All  her  tears  were  gone  now  and  her  dark  eyes  sparkled  like 
jewels. 

"Daddy,  if  you'll  give  him  this,  from  me — " 

"I  will,  pet,"  smiling  as  he  read  on  the  back  of  the  picture, 
"Forget  me  not." 

Here,  Nellie  and  several  other  girls  rushed  in  to  bid  Ina 
good-bye,  and  father  and  daughter  could  exchange  no  more  sweet 
confidences.  The  train  soon  rolled  in  and  out  again,  and  as  far 
as  he  could  see  her,  Ina  threw  kisses  to  her  father,  who  stood  and 
waved  his  hat  in  return,  trying  to  swallow  the  lump  in  his  throat, 
while  he  wondered  how  he  could  ever  endure  his  big,  lovely  home, 
without  his  "Sunbeam." 

Then  he  turned  his  steps  toward  the  mill  and  straight  to 
Jack's  desk,  where  he  found  the  young  overseer  gazing  absent- 
mindedly  out  through  the  open  window,  looking  very  miserable. 

"Cheer  up,  my  boy!"  he  cried,  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder, 
and  extending  the  envelope.  "I  don't  have  to  steal  for  you — the 
lady  sends  you  your  heart's  desire." 

Then  he  hurried  out,  leaving  Jack  alone  with  his  happiness 
and  for  fear  that  some  one  would  intrude  on  him,  Jack  locked 
his  office  door. 

A  few  days  later  Mr.  Nixon  had  a  talk  with  Jack.  The  com- 
pany had  decided  to  build  another  mill,  and  Jack  was  advised  to 
study  carding,  during  every  spare  moment. 

"I've  been  doing  that  for  a  year,"  was  his  astonishing 
answer.  "I've  tried  to  not  neglect  my  duties,  and  I'm  sure  I 
haven't ;  but  I'm  very  interested  in  carding.  Mr.  Brown  has 
been  exceedingly  kind  to  me,  and  takes  great  pains  to  explain 
anything  I  ask  him." 


130  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Say;  Jack,  go  your  gait.  There's  something  in  the  future 
for  you.  The  company  is  watching  you.  You  have  made  aston- 
ishing changes  for  the  better  here.    Saw  wood  and  say  nothing." 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Mrs.  Florence  wanted  Mose  to  return  home  with  her,  but  he 
refused,  saying: 

"Than'ee  mam,  I  des  can't  leave  Marse  Jack.  I  done  promist 
de  good  Lawd  I  ain't  nebber  gwinter  let  man  chile  git  outten  mah 
sight  no  mo.  Den  clars  a  nudder  'sideration  what  musn'  be  for- 
got— sumbody  gotta  look  atter  Joe.  Dat  dawg's  gittin  ole,  an 
Marse  Jack  he  'low  if  Joe  do  git  on  de  lif  I  gotta  nuss  him  same 
as  he  wuz  Marse  Jack  heself.  Den'  I  lak  mah  whitefolks  at  de 
hotel.  You  des  gin  Sallie  one  o'  mah  pickters,  an'  tell  her  if  Marse 
Jack  eber  come  home  den  I  be  right  dar  if  I'se  a  libin.  If  I  die, 
Marse  Jack  will  take  me  back  an'  bury  me  side  o'  Dilsie."  And 
Mis'  Florence  had  to  leave  without  him. 

She  and  Jack  had  talked  long  and  earnestly  over  business 
matters,  and  Jack  had  said : 

"Mother,  you  must  think  of  me  now  as  your,  own  son.  I 
know  you  have  business  ability  and  I  want  you  to  run  the  farm 
just  as  you  have  been  doing.  Get  a  good  man  and  woman  whom 
you  can  trust  to  live  in  the  house  with  you  for  company  and  pro- 
tection and  let  the  man  act  as  your  foreman.  Pay  him  what  you 
think  is  right — get  a  good  man  and  pay  him  liberally.  Do  just 
as  you  please  with  everything  and  be  happy  as  you  can.  I'll 
come  to  see  you  next  summer  if  I  can  possibly  get  off.  The  home 
is  ours — don't  think  of  it  as  mine,  Mother,  and  I  want  you  to  feel 
perfectly  free  to  run  things  as  you  choose,"  and  Jack  kissed  her 
tears  of  shame  and  regret  away,  and  smiled  happily  as  she 
agreed  to  do  as  he  had  advised. 

Steve  and  Nellie  were  married  Christmas  eve,  in  front  of 
the  beautiful  well  loaded  Christmas  tree  in  the  church  where  both 
were  faithful  Sunday  school  workers.  The  popular  couple  re- 
ceived so  many  valuable  and  useful  presents  that  housekeeping 
was  made  easy.  Both  were  passionately  fond  of  music  and  Jack's 
present  was  a  lovely  piano.  He  was  not  altogether  unselfish  in 
his  choice  of  a  present,  for  he  anticipated  great  pleasure  in  bring- 
ing his  violin  and  joining  them  during  long  winter  evenings. 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  131 

Ina  was  home  for  the  wedding  and  Christmas  and  Jack  had 
lost  not  a  little  sleep  in  trying  to  decide  on  a  Christmas  present 
for  her.  He  would  have  liked  giving  her  something  expensive 
but  under  the  circumstances  he  knew  it  was  not  good  form.  They 
were  not  engaged — were  not  even  "keeping  company"  and  he 
must  be  very  tactful. 

He  at  last  decided  on  a  box  of  pink  and  white  carnations,  and 
when  they  came  from  the  florist  arranged  with  maiden-hair  fern 
in  heart  design,  and  tied  with  an  exquisite  bow  of  white  silk 
chiffon,  Jack  knew  he  had  selected  the  right  present. 

Ina  was  only  home  for  a  few  days.  Jack  only  saw  her  in 
company  with  others.  But  just  to  see  her  and  to  breathe  the 
same  atmosphere — to  turn  music  made  sacred  by  her  touch,  to 
stand  by  and  sing  with  her,  and  catch  the  faint  perfume  of  her 
hair  was  heaven  for  Jack.  Not  for  worlds  would  he  have  seen 
her  for  one  moment,  alone.  None  but  himself  could  guess  the 
fight  that  raged  in  his  soul.  His  honor  was  at  stake.  He  would 
not  disappoint  her  father.  He  would  wait  patiently,  let  the  price 
be  what  it  might ;  she  was  worth  it,  if  he  could  win  her. 

Before  the  three  years  were  out,  Jack  felt  that  there  were 
grave  doubts  about  his  winning  her.  He  had  so  studiously  avoid- 
ed being  in  her  presence,  except  in  company  with  others  that 
Ina  noticed  it,  and  was  piqued.  She  had  looked  forward  to  her 
vacations  with  a  heart  thrilling  with  tenderest  love  and  fond 
anticipation,  and  was  disappointed  because  of  Jack's  reticence. 
She  did  not  know  of  his  compact  with  her  father  and  began  to 
think  that  she  must  have  been  mistaken — he  did  not  care  after 
all. 

Well,  she  would  show  him  that  she  didn't  care  either,  and 
when  she  was  home  for  Christmas,  before  she  graduated  in  June, 
she  flirted  with  young  men  of  the  city  until  Jack's  heart  bled  with 
agony.  Her  beauty  and  vivacity  made  her  irresistibly  charming, 
and,  maddened  over  Jack's  indifference,  she  hid  an  aching  heart 
beneath  a  smiling  face,  sang,  rode  and  danced,  until  her  father 
looked  grave  and  her  mother  troubled.  Both  felt  relieved,  yet 
neither  acknowledged  it,  when  Ina  was  safe  in  college  again. 

In  the  meantime,  things  had  happened.  The  new  mill  had 
been  built  and  was  to  start  up  the  following  September.  Jack's 
time  had  been  so  filled  up,  that  he  had  had  little  time  for  melan- 
choly. There  was  a  bouncing  baby  at  Steve's  house  that  was  call- 
ed "Jack,"  and  he  was  beginning  to  "take  notice"  of  the  tall 


]32  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

handsome  man  with  the  troubled  blue  eyes,  who  came  so  often  to 
see  him.  The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  hall  had  been  enlarged.  Debating  soci- 
ties  had  been  organized  and  in  these  Jack  took  great  delight.  He 
welcomed  anything  that  would  make  him  forget  the  ache  in  his 
heart,  and  nothing  comforted  him  more  than  his  Bible  and  church 
work. 

Jack  and  Mrs.  Florence  exchanged  letters  once  a  week,  each 
finding  great  pleasure  and  happiness  in  the  .correspondence.  He 
and  Mose  had  visited  her  twice. 

On  the  first  of  June  the  stockholders  and  officers  of  the  mill 
met  in  .conference  in  the  big  office.  There  was  much  business  to 
attend  to.  Officers  were  to  be  elected  for  the  new  mill,  which 
would  start  up  three  months  later.  Jack  was  elected  superintend- 
ent without  a  dissenting  voice,  and  a  message  was  sent  to  him 
in  the  mill  to  come  to  the  office. 

Wondering  what  they  could  want  with  him  Jack  straightened 
ed  the  summons.  He  was  greeted  warmly  by  the  great  men 
assembled,  and  then  the  president  said: 

"Mr.  LeGrande,  you  are  unanimously  elected  superintend- 
ent of  the  new  mill,  and  we  sincerely  trust  you  will  accept  the 
position. 

Mr.  Nixon  looked  at  Jack  anxiously.  He  had  seen  and  under- 
stood all  that  Jack  had  endured  and  suffered  at  the  hands  of  Ina. 
He  had  wanted  to  offer  his  sympathy,  but  each  had  avoided  the 
subect,  as  one  too  delicate  for  discussion.  Mr.  Nixon  wondered 
if  Jack  was  brave  enough  to  accept  a  position  that  would  keep 
him  near  Ina,  when  there  was  no  hope  that  he  could  win  her,  and 
waited  in  suspense  for  the  answer.  Jack  had  turned  pale — then 
flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  as  he  realized  what  had  happened. 
His  blue  eyes  were  wide  with  surprise  and  his  voice  trembled  as 
he  replied : 

"I  can't  express  how  I  appreciate  the  honor  you  have  done 
me.  I  had  hoped  to  be  spinner  in  the  big  mill,  but  I  never  dream- 
ed of  being  superintendent.  I — I — thought  Mr.  Nix-on  would — " 
The  president  smiled: 

"Mr.  Nixon  will  be  general  manager.  As  far  as  possible, 
we  are  advancing  our  own  faithful  ones,  and  will  get  new  men 
to  fill  vacancies,  where  we  have  no  available  material  to  'work 
up.'  Your  friend  Steve  will  take  your  place  as  spinner — or  if  you 
think  him  capable,  we'll  give  him  the  place  of  spinner  in  the  new 
mill." 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  133 

"Steve  is  certainly  capable,  and  I'd  like  very  mucn  to  have 
him  with  me.    We  understand  each  other  so  thoroughly  and — " 

"So  you  accept,  then  Jack?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Nixon,  very  much 
relieved. 

"I  am  very  young — only  twenty-three,"  said  Jack,  "but  I 
am  willing  to  try."  Then  all  in  a  flash  he  thought  of  the  lovely 
white  superintendent's  house  that  crested  a  lovely  knoll,  near 
the  new  mill.  Ah,  if  Ina  would  only  occupy  it  with  him!  He 
could  see  the  pretty  house  from  the  office  window,  and  as  his 
eyes  were  turned  involuntarily  toward  it  he  heaved  a  sigh. 

"You  may  send  Mr.  Laney  down  to  us  now,"  said  the  presi- 
dent, shaking  Jack's  hand  warmly.  '"We  are  proud  of  you,  my 
boy.  It  was  a  happy  day  for  the  company  when  your  run-away 
feet  led  you  to  this  office.  You  have  no  idea  what  you  and  your 
Christian  influence  have  meant  for  this  community." 

"If  I  am  anything,  or  ever  accomplish  any  good  in  this 
world  the  honor  is  Mr.  Nixon's,"  replied  Jack  warmly.  Jack 
withdrew  and  sought  his  friend. 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes  later  that  he  saw  Steve  returning 
from  the  office,  holding  his  shoulders  proudly  erect  and  his  great 
dark  eyes  dancing  with  joy.    Steve  rushed  into  Jack's  office : 

"Jack,  oh.  Jack!  Do  you  remember  our  compact  in  the 
the  barn  the  night  of  your  party?  I  said  then  I'd  follow  where 
you  would  lead,  but  now  you've  just  taken  me  by  the  hand  and 
yanked  me  on  a  high  shelf  all  at  once,  and  I'm  dizzy  over  it !  Oh, 
Jack,  Jack!  and  I  might  never  have  waked  up  or  been  anything, 
but  for  you !"  and  Steve  turned  aside  to  hide  his  emotion. 

"Say,  Steve,  don't  you  want  to  run  out  and  carry  this  mail 
to  Nellie?"  and  Jack  held  out  a  couple  of  letters  that  had  just 
been  brought  over  from  the  postoffice. 

"God  bless  you,  Jack — you  know  I'm  crazy  to  tell  her!"  and 
Steve  bolted.  Presently  the  office  door  was  jerked  open  and  one 
of  the  Baxter  children  rushed  in  crying: 

Oh,  Mr.  Jack,  Joe's  sick  and  Uncle  Mose  said  get  a  doctor 
and  come  quick!" 

Jack  jerked  up  his  'phone  and  got  busy.  He  called  the  doc- 
tor and  then  asked  Steve  to  hurry  back.  With  an  ache  in  his 
heart  that  nothing  could  heal,  Jack  then  went  out  to  be  with  his 
dog,  and  found  Mose  with  Joe  in  his  arms  and  talking  to  him  as 
if  he  had  been  a  child : 


134  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Dar  now,  Joe,  doa'n  yo'  mind  de  valley  an'  de  shadder — 
tain't  nuffin  to  be  skeered  of — dey's  light  on  de  udder  side !  Dey 
ain't  nobody  got  mo  right  to  heben  den  you  is,  Joe — you'se  fit  a 
good  fight  an'  dar's  boun  to  be  a.  place  fo'  you  ober  dar.  Yes, 
honey,  an'  Dilsie  an'  Marse  Henry  an'  Mis'  Evelyn  an'  Arfur 
gwine  to  be  glad  to  see  yo'.  Mose'll  come  des  es  soon  es  de  Lawd 
invites  him." 

"Jack's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  sat  down  on  Mose's  bed  and 
held  out  his  arms,  and  Mose,  laid  Joe  tenderly  in  them. 

"Can  nothing  be  done?"  asked  Jack  of  the  doctor,  who  had 
come  in  and  was  looking  grave. 

"No,  poor  Joe  has  come  to  the  end  of  the  row.  We  can  only 
ease  his  suffering  and  let  him  go  peacefully  to  sleep." 

"Do  it  then  "  begged  Jack  as  Joe  began  to  whine  piteously, 
and  plead  for  relief.  The  doctor  gave  a  hypodermic,  and  with 
one  last  loving  look  into  Jack's  agonized  face,  as  he  bent  over  him, 
one  feeble  effort  to  caress  his  tear-wet  cheek,  Joe's  soft  brown 
eyes  were  closed  forever  and  he  passed  into  the  great  unknown, 
without  a  struggle. 

The  next  day  was  Saturday  and  after  the  mill  stopped  a 
large  crowd  attended  the  burial  of  Joe,  which  was  in  the  garden 
at  Baxter  Heights.  Joe  was  wrapped  in  a  white  satin  shroud  and 
laid  in  a  white  casket.  This  was  enclosed  in  an  air-tight  metal 
case,  for  Jack  had  a  faint  idea  that  perhaps  he'd  want  to  take 
Joe  home  some  day  and  lay  his  ashes  in  the  old  family  burying 
ground. 

There  were  many  eyes  wet  with  tears  as  the  crowd  turned 
away  from  the  flower  covered  mound,  where  Jack  lingered  with 
bare,  bowed  head,  attended  by  the  faithful  Mose. 

"June  has  always  been  my  lucky  and  unlucky  month,"  sigh- 
ed Jack,  thinking  of  the  many  things  that  had  happened  to  him 
during  the  past. 

A  few  days  later  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nixon  left  to  attend  Ina's 
graduation,  and  poor  Jack  looked  forward  to  their  return  with 
mingled  dread  and  longing.  It  was  heaven  to  be  near  Ina,  even 
if  she  would  not  care  for  him — provided  she  would  not  care  for 
some  other. 

They  returned  the  10th  and  a  reception  was  given  in  honor 
to  the  beautiful  graduate,  a  few  days  later.  Jack  had  called  with 
flowers  and  congratulations  on  the  first  evening  of  her  arrival 
and  so  had  others.     Ina,  bewitchingly  beautiful  in  soft  clinging 


ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY.  135 

white,  with  crimson  roses  in.  her  hair  and  at  her  waist,  her  dark 
eyes  sparkling-  with  the  joy  of  being  home  again,  entertained 
charmingly.  She  sang  and  played,  holding  her  listeners  spell- 
bound with  her  wonderful  expression. 

Her  father  and  mother  looked  on  with  pardonable  pride,  but 

both  were  disturbed  over  the  hopeless  look  on  Jack's  face  as  he 

,  leaned  against  the  mantle  and  watched  another  turn  Ina's  music. 

bending  over  her  with  such  a  manner  of  devotion,  and  flushing 

with  happiess  as  she  occasionally  gave  him  an  upward  glance  and 
smile. 

Mrs.  Nixon  had  known  Jack's  secret  for  some  time,  and  in 
her  heart  she  had  -acknowledged  that  she  would  not  object  to 
Jack  as  a  son-in-law.  But  she  saw  no  hope  of  that.,  Ina  had 
greeted  Jack  as  a  dear  friend,  and  complimented  him  on  his  pro- 
motion, just  as  any  one  would  have  done,  and  without  a  tremor. 

On  the  night  of  the  reception  Jack  managed  to  be  the  last 
guest  to  take  his  leave.  With  his  hat  in  his  hand,  he  was  passing 
out,  when  suddenly  he  looked  at  Ina,  caught  her  eyes,  held  them 
to  his  own  for  a  second  and  saw  the  rich  blood  surge  over  her  face 
in  a  tell-tale  flood.  He  resolved  then  and  there  to  put  his  fate  to 
the  test — he  would  know  once  for  all  if  there  was  hope  for  him. 

"Will  you  come  out  on  the  porch,  please?  If  you  are  not  too 
tired,  I'd  like  just  a  few  moments  with  you,"  said  Jack,  and  he 
felt  her  hand  tremble  as  he  drew  it  through  his  arm  and  led  her 
out  in  the  cool  night  air  in  the  fragrance  of  June  roses. 

"Little  girl,  I've  just  got  to  know  if  there  is  any  hope  for  me 
to  ever  win  you  for  my  own.  Don't  answer  yet — wait!"  as  Ina 
caught  her  breath.    Jack  was  afraid  to  hear  his  fate. 

"Ina,  I've  suffered — God  only  knows  how  much — in  keeping 
silent  through  these  years,  but  I  didn't  want  to  interfere  with 
your  school  duties — and — and — I  waited.  Oh,  darling,  how  I 
love  you !  Look  over  yonder,"  and  Jack  pointed  to  the  new  super- 
intendent's house  that  shone  clearly  in  the  moonlight.  "If  you'd 
only  make  that  home  for  me !  But  there — I  am  selfish — you  are 
just  home — you  will  want  to  travel  and  meet  people — you  may 
find  some  one  who  is  more  worthy — but  never  any  one  who  loves 
you  more.     Can  you  ever  learn  to  care  for  me?" 

"I — I  am  afraid  not,  Jack,"  Ina  whispered.  Jack  said  not  a 
word.  He  was  too  stunned  to  speak.  All  the  light  had  gone  out 
of  his  world.     He  raised  his  hand  to  his  brow. 


136  ONLY  A  FACTORY  BOY. 

"Oh,  God  help  me,"  he  murmured,  and  reeled  toward  the 
steps.    Ina  sprang  after  him  and  caught  his  arm. 

"Jack,  oh  Jack!  How  can  I  learn  to  do  a  thing  that  I've 
been  doing — oh — don't  you  know? — and  I  thought  you  didn't 
care !" 

"Ina,  darling,  look  up !  Let  me  see  your  dear  eyes,"  pleaded 
Jack,  clasping  her  to  his  breast  half  in  doubt,  as  the  dark  head 
bent  lower  and  lower. 

.  "Look  up,  sweet,"  and  Jack  raised  her  face,  gazed  long  and 
searchingly  into  the  misty,  starry  eyes,  then  as  he  pressed  his 
lips  to  hers,  his  heart  throbbing  with  joy  and  thankfulness,  there 
came  a  trembling,  "God  bless  you,  my  children,"  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Nixon  stood  before  them  just  a  moment,  then  vanished. 

They  were  married  the  1st  of  September.  Had  a  grand 
church  wedding,  big  reception,  and  then  a  trip  to  Washington 
and  New  York,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Florence,  who  had  visited 
these  cities  often,  and  knew  everything  worth  seeing.  During 
the  trip  she  met  with  an  old  admirer,  a  resident  of  Washing- 
ton, and  they  were  happily  married  the  following  Christmas. 

Later,  Jack  sold  the  plantation  except  the  family  burying 
ground  and  made  arrangements  to  have  it  well  cared  for.  Mose 
moved  over  to  the  new  house  with  Jack  and  Ina  and  when  a  year 
later  he  was  called  into  Ina's  room  and  Jack  proudly  laid  into  his 
arms  a  wee  bundle  of  love  and  trouble  that  had  the  blue  eyes 
and  golden  curls  of  its  father,  Mose  said : 

"Praise  Gawd!    Hit's  des  lak  Mis'  Evelyn." 

"Her  name  is  Florence  Evelyn  and  we  shall  call  her  Evelyn," 
smiled  Ina,  her  dark  eyes  luminous  with  mother  love.  And  Jack 
bent  and  kissed  her  lovingly,  thankfully  and  reverently. 


(THE   END.) 


From  Ball  Room  to  Weave  Room 


CHAPTER  I. 

"We  have  careful  thoughts  for  the  stranger, 
And  smiles  for  the  sometimes  guest, 

But  oft  for  'our  own' 

The  bitter  tone, 
Though  we  love  'our  own'  the  best. 

"Ah!  lips  with  the  curve  impatient, 
Ah !  brow  with  the  look  of  scorn, 
'Twere  a  cruel  fate 
Were  the  night  too  late 
To  undo  the  work  of  the  morn." 

It  was  in  New  York,  the  20th  of  May  and  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  The  guests  were  gone,  and  the  assumed  masks  of 
gayety  had  dropped  as  if  by  magic  from  the  faces  of  husband 
and  wife. 

It  was  only  one  of  many  such  scenes  daily  and  hourly 
enacted  in  the  gay  circles  of  fashionable  life,  and  jealously 
guarded  from  the  curious  eye  of  the  people's  god — society.  It 
was  only  one  of  many  instances  in  which  the  "green  eyed 
monster," — jealousy,  had  glided  into  a  once  happy  home,  then 
"stretching  out  his  slimy  claws  in  all  their  hideousness  and 
lashing  his  long  tail  in  fury,"  had  frightened  away  the  good 
angels  of  love  and  trust. 

The  man  stood  leaning  wearily  against  the  costly  rosewood 
piano,  a  stern,  set  expression  on  his  handsome  face,  his  gray 
eyes  fiercely  steady  as  they  rested  on  the  face  and  perfect  figure 
of  his  girl-wife,  who  returned  his  gaze  unflinchingly  and  with 
proud  defiance. 

How  entrancingly  beautiful,  how  bewitchingly  winsome  and 
tantalizing  she  was  in  her  rich  cream  silk  ball  dress,  its  low  neck 
and  short  sleeves  showing  snowy  throat  and  faultless  arms 
which  seemed  the  texture  of  lily  petals,  her  dark  curling  hair 
arranged  high  on  the  small  queenly  poised  head,  with  a  few 
stray  rebellious  curls  coquettishly  caressing  the  white  neck  and 


138  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

temples,  lips  red  and  luscious  as  a  June  strawberry,  now  curved 
scornfully,  and  the  rich  color  coming  and  going  as  she  waited 
for  the  man  to  speak. 

A  shaft  of  keenest  pain  rushed  through  the  man's  heart, 
and  for  one  brief  instant  he  closed  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  lovely 
vision,  that  he  might  gain  courage  to  pursue  the  method  he 
had  decided  to  adopt.  It  was  no  wonder,  he  thought,  that  men 
should  rave  over  her  beauty.  How  could  they  help  it?  And, 
how  could  she,  only  a  girl,  help  feeling  proud  of  her  conquests? 
Older  and  more  experienced  women  were  just  as  silly;  but  then, 
she  was  his  wife  and  must  stop  such  desperate  flirting. 

"My  dear  Theo,  why  will  you  persist  in  driving  me  to  des- 
peration? The  way  you  take  on  with  some  of  these  confounded 
unprincipled  society  devils  has  worn  my  patience  threadbare," 
he  said,  passionately. 

"My  dear  Jack!  I  am  so  sorry;  can  I  patch  it  for  you?" 
innocently. 

"No  you  can't,"  savagely;  "I've  allowed  you  to  'patch  things 
up'  for  the  very  last  time — do  you  hear?" 

Well,  'darn'  it  then,"  and  the  way  she  said  it,  sounded  as 
if  the  sweet  lips  were  using  .profane  language. 

"You  have  got  to  stop  flirting,  Theo!     Now  I  mean  it." 

"As  I  am  no  longer  a  child  to  be  ordered  around,  would 
like  to  know  how  you  propose  to  enforce  obedience  to  your 
command,"  her  eyes  narrowing  to  an  angry  line  as  she  sank  into 
a  crimson  velvet  chair. 

"I  have  had  murder  in  my  heart  tonight,  Theo,  and  without 
a  change  along  certain  lines  I  shall  soon  be  guilty  in  reality, 
I  can't  and  won't  stand  it  any  longer!     I  hope  you  understand." 

The  angry  light  left  the  glorious  dark  eyes  and  the  smiles 
and  dimples  returned  as  she  retorted  roguishly : 

"Oh  Jack!  are  you  really  jealous?  Some  great  writer  has 
said  that  'whoever  has  qualities  to  alarm  our  jealousy,  has 
excellence  to  deserve  our  fondness!"  Now  if  that  is  true  you 
still  love  me — don't  you?" 

"Theo,"  impatiently,  "this  is  no  time  for  sentimentality.  I 
am  sorry  to  be  harsh  and  stern,  but  gentle  measures  and  kind 
words  seem  to  have  no  weight  with  you.  Can't  you  understand 
that  your  name  will  soon  be  a  by  word  in  every  club? — that  the 
very  men  who  pay  you  such  worshipful  homage,  will  speak 
lightly  of  you  if  they  have  not  already  begun  it?     And  after 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  139 

all,  can  a  man  be  blamed  or  censured  for  making  light  remarks 
about  a  woman  who  will  dress  in  such  a  manner  as  to  inflame 
his  passions — who  will  allow  the  arms  of  any  good  waltzer  to 
embrace  her?  Is  she  not  to  blame,  entirely  to  blame,  if  with 
her  own  imprudence,  she  casts  aside  that  God-given  instinct 
which  should  be  the  guide  of  every  pure  woman,  and  tempts 
a  man  beyond  endurance?  By  heaven!  you  shall  not  drag  my 
name  into  the  mud  and  mire  of  disgrace.  I  refuse  to  be  an 
object  of  pity  among  my  fellow  men  and  an  outcast  from  decent 
society,"  stormily. 

"Decent  society."  she  mimicked.  "How  often  have  I  heard 
you  saj'  that  society  was  rotten  to  the  core?  And  it's  public 
opinion  you  care  for,  not  me ;  the  opinion  of  'decent  society,'  " 
bitterly. 

"I  should  have  said  select  society ;  there  are  some  few  good 
people  mixed  up  in  this  develish  riish  after  excitement,  whose 
good  opinion  I  greatly  value.  But  tell  me — will  you  agree  to 
stop — "  but  something  in  the  beautiful  face  arrested  his  words 
and  he  looked  at  her  deeply  perplexed,  doubtful  and  anxious. 
Theo,  deathly  white  and  with  clenched  hands  leaned  forward 
on  the  arm  of  her  chair  and  for  a  few  moments  gazed  into  the 
stern  face  of  her  husband. 

"Jack,  if  you  loved  me  really  and  truly  as  I  once  thought 
you  did  I  would  seriously  consider  what  you  say.  If  you  do  love 
me  still,  tell  me  so  now,  dear,  and  I  will  forgive  and  forget  the 
cruel  things  you  have  said.  Otherwise,  you  haye  no  right  to 
dictate  to  me,"  tremulously. 

"Love!  Don't  talk  to  me  of  love,"  he  flared,  "when  you 
absolutely  crave  the  admiration  and  flattery  of  every  masculine 
member  of  the  human  race." 

"That  would  include  Hottentots,  Africans  and  so  on.  Truly, 
you  are  most  amazingly  complimentary,  Mr.  Jack  Arling- 
ton," and  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair  with  that  dangerous  light 
again  in  her  dark  eyes,  continuing : 

"You  said  things  just  now  that  I  shall  never  forget,  I  think. 
You  intimated  that  I  was  not  decently  dressed,  and  that  I  had 
no  modesty  or  delicacy  of  feeling.  Am  I  dressed  differently  from 
others  whom  I  know  you  sincerely  admire? — and  have  I  con- 
ducted myself  differently?" 

"But  I  want  you  to  be  different,"  he  said  desperately.     "I. 
have  always  thought  of  you  as  so  entirely  different. — But  to- 


140  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAV  EROOM 

night  my  idol  has  fallen — to  the  common  level.  You  have 
entirely  overcome  your  repugnance  to  being  embraced  in  public 
by  strange  men.  You  waltzed  in  the  vile  embrace  of  the  Apollo 
of  the  t  evening.  Your  head  rested  on  his  shoulder,  your  bare 
arm  was  almost  around  his  neck,  your  face  upturned  to  his, 
and  your  white  forehead  dangerously  near  his  vile  lips.  He,  if 
not  you,  was  filled  with  the  rapture  of  sin  in  its  intensity.  His 
spirit,  if  not  yours,  was  inflamed  with  passions,  and  lust  was 
gratified  in  thought.    Good  God!    It  was  hell  to  me!" 

"Jack,  you  wrong  me — you  are  cruel!  I  don't  care  for 
flattery ;  but  I  have  liked  to  be  admired  sincerely  for  your  sake. 
Since  I  was  a  tiny  girl,  it  has  been  the  dream  of  my  life  to 
win  the  love  of  some  good  and  noble  man,  who  in  return  should 
have  my  whole  heart.  When  you  married  me,  a  lonely  orphan 
girl,  I  worshipped  you,  Jack.  In  less  than  a  year  you  wearied 
of  my  passionate  and  ardent  demonstrations  of  love,  and  chilled 
me  into  a  'more  dignified  demeanor,'  as  you  called  it,  which  at 
last  grew  to  indifference.  Oh,  Jack!  I  am  not  the  only  one  to 
blame  for  the  gulf  that  yawns  between  us.  It  was  wrong  of 
you  to  pretend  an  affection  you  never  felt — wrong  of  you  to 
marry  me  when  your  heart  had  long  been  in  the  possession  of 
another.  Had  I  known  about  Cora  Sullivan,  I  would  never  have 
said  'yes'  to  you,  even  if  she  was  already  married,"  passionately. 
"You  had  plenty  of  money,  and  surely  you  didn't  marry  me  for 
mine;  I  guess  you  did  it  for  spite,"  brokenly. 

The  man's  face  grew  suddenly  drawn  and  white,  and  he 
leaned  more  heavily  against  the  piano  trembling  with  agitation. 

"Theo,  I  have  told  you  so  often  that  I  never  loved  her — that 
I  never  would  have  married  a  society  woman.  How  proud  I  was 
of  your  purity  and  innocence  which  had  never  been  soiled  by 
contact  with  the  dirty  world;  I  did  so  hope  we  should  be  happy." 

"How  could  you  hope  for  anything,  Jack,  when  you  did  not 
love  me?  If  you  would  only  care  for  me,  really  and  truly,  and 
let  me  share  in  all  your  business  worries  and  vexations,  I  would 
be  far  happier  and  a  better  wife.  But  honestly,  I  think  it  is 
too  late  now.  My  heart  seems  turned  to  stone,  and  lies  a  dead 
weight  in  my  bosom.  I  don't  think  we  are  married  in  the  sight 
of  heaven!  I  almost  laugh  over  that  preacher's  solemn  'whom 
therefore  God  hath  joined  together;'  God — if  there  be  a  God — 
certainly  had  nothing  to  do  with  our  case,  though  it  may  be 
that  Satan  approved  and  sanctioned  it,"  and  she  laughed  reck- 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  141 

lessly. 

"Theo!  that  sounds  just  like  some  of  the  devilish  rot  that 
DuBoise  talks  in  the  club  room,"  in  almost  uncontrolable  rage, 
eyeing  her  with  jealous  suspicion  and  nervously  fingering  his 
watch  chain. 

"I  suppose  he  is  the  man  you  are  so  jealous  of — and  I  don't 
care  who  it  'sounds  like !'  I  never  heard  him  or  any  one  make 
such  an  expression;  it  was  just  born  out  of  the  anguish  of  heart 
and  mind  which  your  too  frequent  fits  of  unreasonable  jealousy 
have  subjected  me  to,"  and  the  tears  welled  up  into  her  eyes,  her 
lips  became  tremulous  and  a  wave  of  rich  color  surged  over  her 
cheeks  and  brow.  She  leaned  toward  her  husband  and  looked 
pleadingly  into  his  stern  set  face.  There  was  a  wistful  tender- 
ness in  her  tones  as  she  softly  and  shyly  spoke : 

"Jack,  if  we — if  we  had — a — had  a  little — a — darling  little 
baby,  would  you  love  me  then?"  But  the  man  had  previously 
resolved  that  she  should  not  'twist  him  around  her  finger'  this 
time,  and  make  him  acknowledge  that  he  had  wronged  her.  He 
would  not  be  softened  by  any  of  her  many  artifices,  nor  admit 
that  he  was  to  blame,  and  retorted: 

"God!  without  a  mighty  reformation  in  your  character — I 
beg  pardon — deportment,  you  should  never  have  charge  of  a 
child  of  mine.  But  that  is  nonsense — such  a  thing  never  hap- 
pens to  a  woman  who  dances  her  life  away  as  you  have  been 
doing  the  three  years  since  we  married,"  contemptuously.  "But 
it  is  now  half  past  two;  I  must  be  at  the  office  by  nine  and  will 
bid  you  good  night,"  not  offering  to  kiss  her.  As  he  crossed  the 
room  she  sprang  from  her  seat  and  confronted  him,  her  sensi- 
tive lips  trembling  piteously,  her  eyes  flashing  through  rebel- 
lious tears. 

"Stop !  Jack,  we  will  have  it  out  now,  once  and  forever, 
the  last  time!  I  will  bear  your  insinuations  and  insults  no 
longer.  You  have  at  last  driven  me  to  despair.  I  have  always 
been  true  to  you  in  word,  thought  and  deed.  If  I  ever  prove 
false  it  will  be  because  you  drove  me  to  it — remember  that!  I 
am  going  to  leave  you;  some  day  you  will  bitterly  regret  this 
hour." 

"Theo!"  and  he  grasped  her  hands  in  a  vise-like  grip  and 
gazed  in  awe  on  her  white  drawn  features.  Ah,  this  was  just  a 
passionate  childish  outburst  of  temper,  he  thought,  but  more 
serious  than  usual. 


142  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"Theo,  you  dare  not  bring  such  disgrace  on  your  head  and 
mine.  I  know  we  are  as  far  apart  as  the  poles — you  crave  ex- 
citement and  society — I  detest  both  and  everything  pertaining 
to  either.  I  am  sorry — but  it  can't  be  helped  now ;  we  will  have 
to  endure  it  to  the  bitter  end,"  and  his  voice  broke  in  great  dry 
sobs,  as  if  his  heart  were  bursting. 

"But  I  won't  endure  it!'"  she  stormed,  angrily  stamping  her 
daintily  slippered  foot.  "I  won't  be  scolded  and  reproved  all  the 
time  as  if  I  were  a  naughty  child;  I  am  a  woman,  and  I  won't 
submit  to  such  treatment  at  your  hands  a  day  longer — no  I 
won't— I'll— " 

"Don't  say  anything  rash,  Theo,"  groaned  the  man  in 
anguish,  "we  will  talk  it  over  when  we  are  both  in  a  more 
reasonable  frame  of  mind.  1  think  that  neither  of  us  should 
hold  the  other  responsible  for  anything  we  may  have  sai'd.  If > 
you  are  really  so  anxious  to  get  away  from  me,  you  might  go 
with  the  Sheldons  to  Europe  the  last  of  the  month — about  ten 
days  from  now.  They  will  be  gone  for  a  year.  If  you  wish  to  go 
I  will  arrange  it."  And  again  came  that  shaft  of  pain  through 
the  man's  heart,  as  the  thought  of  an  empty,  cheerless  home 
rose  clearly  defined  before  his  mental  vision. 

"Yes,  I'll  go — to  Europe,  Africa,  Asia  or  anywhere,  just 
so  I  get  away  from  this  hateful  place  of  sham  and  hypocrisy, 
where  all  the  originality  is  crushed  out  of  one !  j  Oh  yes,  I'll  go ; 
and  I  hope  I'll  never  see  New  York  again,"  bitterly.  So  he 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  her  did  he?  And  he  would  send  her  off 
with  that  hateful  old  gossip,  Mrs.  Sheldon,  would  he?  Well  she 
would  go,  but  not  to  Europe  or  anywhere  that  he  could  know, 
to  be  spied  upon.  She  would  not  be  disposed  of  just  as  he 
pleased,  and  in  a  way  that  he  could  know  of  and  criticise  every 
action, — no  indeed. 

Jack  Arlington  watched  the  changing  countenance  of  his 
wife  with  inward  misgivings,  as  she  drew  her  hands  away  from 
him.  Truly  she  was  a  puzzle  of  late,  and  an  unfathomable 
mystery.  Had  he  been  too  harsh?  he  wondered.  No,  he  decided, 
that  was  his  last  resort.  He  had  begged  and  pleaded  long  enough 
— now  he  would  command.  But  somehow  he  felt  a  sense  of 
defeat,  though  he  could  not  define  it. 

"Well,  good-night,  little  one — and  let's  not  quarrel  any 
more,"  and  he  stooped  to  kiss  her,  but  she  turned  away. 

"No,  Jack,  you  need  not  practice  any  more  deceit  with  me! 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  143 

I  have  not  forgotten  that  you  would  have  left  me  a  few  moments 
ago  without  a  kiss.  We  won't  'patch  up  things'  any  more," 
with  firm  finality.  He  laughed  a  little  uneasily  as  she  paid  him 
back  in  his  own  coin ;  then  sighed  heavily : 

"Oh,  we  are  even  now — be  satisfied,  won't  you?"  pleadingly. 
"I  don't  suppose  you  will  be  visible  so  early  as  I  shall  have  to 
leave,  so  I  will  say  goodnight  and  good  bye,"  and  husband  and 
wife  separated  and  went  to  their  bedrooms. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  man  dismissed  the  whole  dis- 
agreeable subject  from  his  mind  and  went  to  a  sound  healthy 
sleep ;  but  the  woman,  after  being  waited  on  by  her  maid,  dis- 
missed her,  and  passed  the  long  hours  striding  up  and  down  her 
room,  wringing  her  hands  and  moaning  in  anguish,  the  picture 
of  grim  despair.  Poor  girl!  Circumstances  and  environment 
were  forming  her  into  that  most  unfortunate  of  beings,  an 
impassioned,  susceptible,  ill- judging  woman.  With  warm  im- 
pulsive heart  and  erring  head,  she  had  yet  to  learn  of  the  pure, 
mild  and  enduring  virtues  of  the  Christian,  of  humility  and 
endurance  as  a  substitute  for  pride.   . 

Jack  was  surprised  next  morning  on  his  way  out,  to  hear 
the  piano,  but  a  glance  at  his  watch  told  him  he  had  no  time 
to  tarry,  though  he  paused  a  moment  outside  the  parlor  door 
to  listen  to  the  sad,  half  sobbing  voice  of  his  wife  as  she  sang 
with  touching  pathos : 

"I'm  longing,  so  sadly  I'm  longing 

For  the  flowers  that  have  blossomed  and  fled, 
For  the  hopes  that  around  me  were  thronging, 

But  alas !  all  are  withered  and  dead. 
Beauties  I  thought  ne'er  would  perish 

One  by  one  vanish  away — 
There's  nothing  on  earth  that  we  cherish 

That's  lovely  and  true  that  will  stay." 


.44  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

CHAPTER  II. 

"'Have  you  studied  that  man  and  that  woman? 
Have  you  learned  every  phase  of  their  life? 
Have  you  felt  each  temptation  that  met  them  ? 
Have  you  joined  in  their  struggle  and  strife? 
Have  you  probed  every  hope  of  each  bosom? 
Have  you  measured  the  throb  of  each  heart? 
Have  you  fathomed  their  prayers  and  their  passions, 
And  the  evil  from  good  set  apart? 

"Oh,  refrain  from  this  sitting  in  judgment, 
In  causes  where  all  is  not  known, 
And  remember  Christ  said:     'But  the  stainless 
Shall  cast  at  his  brother  a  stone'. 
Reflect  ere  the  harsh  word  is  spoken 
Desist  ere  the  action  you  do, 
And  ask  your  own  heart  in  communion, 
If  both  are  not  suited  to  you." 

As  good  old  Dr.  Brown  was  passing  the  Arlington  home 
that  morning,  he  saw  a  drooping  figure  among  the  flowers  on 
the  lawn,  and  caught  the  glimpse  of  a  white  despairing  face 
and  great  dark  eyes,  gazing  after  Jack  as  he  hurried  down 
street  as  if  possessed  by  demons. 

"Something  wrong  with  those  children,"  he  mused.  "I've 
thought  so  for  some  little  time,  and  now  I  know  it.  I  didn't 
stay  long  at  their  ball,  but  I  understood  how  it  was.  Theo  is  so 
full  of  life  that  she  goes  a  little  too  far  with  some  things,  but 
she  is  pure  gold,  and  I  felt  like  kicking  Jack  for  being  such  a 
fool,  lawyer  though  he  is."  And  giving  a  little  more  speed  to 
his  auto,  he  was  soon  up  with  Jack  and  called  out : 

"Hello!  my  boy,  how  are  you?  Hop  in  here  and  save  your 
car  fare.  I'm  going  right  by  your  office.  Don't  look  like  you've 
slept  much.  Well!  well!  these  balls  and  late  hours  are  a  bore 
to  some  and  a  boon  to  others.  Where  would  the  poor  struggling 
doctor  come  in,  if  there  were  no  fools  to  commit  outrages  against 
the  laws  of  nature?  Echo  answers  where?  By  gum!  we  never 
would  get  a  patient  to  sacrifice  on  the  alter  of  experiment. 
Everything  that  comes  along  brings  good  to  somebody,"  chuckled 
the  old  chatter-box  as  Jack  took  a  seat  beside  him. 

"It's  certainly  fortunate  for  me  that  you  came  along,  any- 
way; I  have  a  genuine  case  of  blue  devils  this  morning,  and  if 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  145 

your  philosophy  can't  drive  them  away,  I  shall  be  left  hopeless." 
The  Doctor  caught  the  note  of  misery  in  the  man's  tone  but 
ignored  it  and  answered  cheerily : 

"After  effects  of  the  ball,  my  boy.  I  had  a  glimpse  of  your 
wife  back  there  on  the  lawn,  and  she  seemed  similarly  affected. 
I  declare,  Jack,  she  was  almost  as  white  as  the  lilacs  under  which 
she  was  standing  while  she  watched  your  fine  athletic  figure 
out  of  sight.  She  looked  just  like  a  lovely  woman  always  feels 
when  her  husband  leaves  her  without  a  kiss,"  teasingly. 

"I — er — was  in  a  hurry — it  was  getting  late — and  she  didn't 
come  to  breakfast  with  me,"  stammered  Jack  in  confusion. 

"Ha!  ha!  what  a  wonderfully  shrewd  lawyer  you  are  to  be 
so  easily  caught  in  my  little  trap,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "So  you 
didn't  kiss  her,  sure  enough.  Zounds !  I  feel  like  using  the 
lash  on  somebody ;  wish  I  were  driving  a  horse."  Then  seriously : 
"Jack,  your  wife  is  getting  to  be  a  wonderfully  deep  woman. 
I've  loved  and  studied  her  since  she  was  a  baby,  but  am  begin- 
ning to  find  fathomless  depths  in  her  nature.  She  has  been  a 
long  time  passing  from  girlhood  to  womanhood — a  serious  stage 
for  one  of  her  temperament.  Be  very  tender  and  patient  with 
her,  my  boy.  I  have  always  been  so  glad  that  you  won  her  from 
her  avaricious  guardian,  who  wanted  her  for  himself.  No 
wonder  she  loves  you  so."    Jack  caught  his  breath ! 

"Doctor,  if  she  had  seen  more  of  society  first,  she  would 
never  have — "  he  began  miserably,  but  the  doctor  cut  him  short : 

"Now,  look  here,  my  boy,  I  won't  listen  to  any  such  tommy- 
rot!  I  understand,  and  as  the  way  is  opened,  I  am  going  to 
diagnose  your  case,  and  don't  you  dare  to  interrupt  me.  I  love 
you  and  Theo  as  if  you  were  my  own  children,  and  the  Lord 
only  knows  how  it  hurts  me  to  see  either  of  you  in  trouble.  I 
was  at  your  ball  long  enough  last  night  to  see  under  the  surface 
of  things,  though  you  both  carried  it  off  splendidly;  but  in  my 
thirty  years  practice  of  medicine,  I've  studied  human  nature  too, 
and  am  hard  to  fool.  Oh,  Jack,  don't  ever  say,  think  or  do 
anything  that  would  wring  your  heart  with  unutterable  regret 
if  the  Lord  should  take  your  wife — " 

"Doctor!  is  she — "  and  Jack's  gray  eyes  sought  the  doctor's 
in  anxiety  too  deep  for  words. 

Oh,  no,  don't  jump  to  unthought  of  conclusions — there's 
nothing  the  matter  with  her  so  far  as  I  know — never  has  been 
anything  serious.    But  I  was  just  thinking  of  my  own  precious 


146  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

wife  up  in  heaven,  and  if  such  a  fate  as  mine  should  ever  happen 
to  be  your  sad  lot,  I  hope  you  won't  have  to  lie  awake  at  night 
as  I  have  so  often  done,  and  grieve  over  the  things  I  should 
have  done  and  did  not,  and  the  things  I  did  and  should  not." 

"I'm  sure,  doctor,  that  no  man  could  ever  be  more  devoted 
to  his  wife  than  you  were,"  sighed  Jack,  ruefully. 

"Ah,  yes,  God  knows,  I  thought  that  I  was  tender,  affection- 
ate and  thoughtful,  but  after  she  was  gone,  I  thought  of  many 
things — little  things,  too,  that  would  have  cost  me  nothing,'  that 
would  have  filled  her  sweet  heart  with  joy  more  often.  Tender 
words  of  affection,  a  stolen  kiss,  a  loving  hand  clasp,  and  a  big 
bear-hug  pretty  often — such  things  are  the  very  life  of  some 
women — and  we  men,  brutish  creatures  that  we  are,  often  let 
them  starve  to  death  for  lack  of  proper  nourishment." 

"Why,  doctor,  I  guess  you  are  getting  things  rather  mixed, 
aren't  you?  Whoever  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  reallv  'living  on 
love?'" 

"I  know  what  I'm  talking  about,  and  so  do  you.  You  in 
your  practice  of  law,  and  I  in  my  practice  of  medicine,  have  been 
behind  the  scenes  and  have  seen  heart  secrets  laid  bare — things 
that  were  pitiful  beyond  expression,  and  aroused  our  deepest 
sympathy. 

The  doctor  now  turned  his  auto  into  another  street,  saying : 
"As  I  am  rather  fond  of  your  company,  we'll  go  a  round-about 
way.  It  will  take  several  minutes  yet,  for  me  to  thoroughly 
diagnose  your  case,  so  I  will  get  to  the  task.  Since  you  have 
been  practicing  law,  especially  since  you  have  so  successfully 
handled  some  extremely  difficult  cases,  I  notice  that  you  do  not 
practice  religion  much.  I  once  thought  you  would  be  a  preacher, 
but  you  have  backslidden,  and  I  think  God  is  beginning  to  ply 
the  lash  to  you.  Well,  it  will  be  for  your  own  good  in  the  long 
run,  though  it  may  hurt  awfully  till  you  come  to  understand  it. 
Jack,  the  practice  of  law  is  making  you  hard  and  cynical;  but 
as  I  always  say,  there's  nothing  that  God  can't  straighten  out, 
and  ev  vything  will  come  right  in  his  own  good  time.  If  you 
are  being  scourged,  it  is  because  He  loves  you.  'Whom  the  Lord 
loveth  he  chasteneth.'  I  wish  you  could  understand  that  God  is 
Love — all  Love — ;  He  never  sends  an  unseasonable  trouble  or  an 
unnecessary  pain — nor  an  unsuitable  mercy.  Everything  is  well 
timed.  There  is  frequently  more  love  in  a  frown  than  there 
could  be  in  a  smile.     'As  many  as  I  love  I  rebuke  and  chasten.' 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  147 

Carbuncles  and  boils  clear  the  system  of  poison  and  help  to 
purify  the  blood.  Fiery  trials  consume  the  dross  and  purify  the 
gold  in  our  natures.  Afflictions  are  nearly  always  real  blessings 
in  disguise.    You  know  those  sweet  lines : 

"Afflictions,  though  they  seem  severe 
Are  oft  in  mercy  sent — 
They  stopped  the  Prodigal's  career, 
And  caused  him  to  repent." 

"Yes,  Jack,  through  error  we  reach  truth,  through  strug- 
gles we  gain  victory,  through  shame  and  regret  we  are  led  to 
the  cross  and  true  repentance  ,and  then  love  leads  us  on  to  the 
throne.  God  can  and  does  take  our  blunders  and  mistakes  some- 
times— yes,  even  our  wilful  sins — and  overrules  them  for  a 
higher  end.  Some  of  the  noblest  and  most  consecrated  Christian 
women  in  all  the  world,  were  once  anything  but  virtuous,  but  the 
purifying,  cleansing  blood  of  Jesus  made  them  'whiter  than 
snow' ;  they  'loved  much,  because  much  was  forgiven.'  Don't 
ever  -think  that  because  things  go  contrary  and  cris-cross,  that 
the  Lord  has  forsaken  His  own.  Never!  Remember  that  He 
was  in  the  ship,  though  the  desciples  were  afraid  of  the  storm. 

"Ah!  Jack,  the  love  of  God  is  a  boundless  ocean;  believe 
confidently,  pray  fervently,  expect  largely,  walk  humbly  and 
repent  daily.  Why  fret  and  worry?  We  are  here  for  such  a 
little  time;  the  race  is  short  at  best,  the  pilgrimage  rough,  the 
voyage  dangerous,  the  combat  fierce,  but  we  'can  do  all  things 
through  Christ  who  strengthened  us' ;  and  there  is  a  glorous 
reward  for  the  faithful ;  a  happy  end,  a  triumphant  victory,  eter- 
nal life  and  a  heavenly  mansion." 

A  suspicious  moisture  had  gathered  in  the  lawyer's  eyes 
and  he  turned  his  face  from  the  doctor,  but  spoke  not  a  word. 
The  good  old  man  had  tactfully  talked  on,  carefully  watching 
for  some  sign  of  the  Spirit's  softening  influence,  and  now  ten- 
derly and  gently,  every  word  breathing  of  Christian  love  and 
sympathy,  he  spoke  again : 

"My  dear  boy,  drive  that  demon  of  jealousy  from  your 
bosom,  or  I  fear  you  and  Theo  will  have  serious  trouble.  You 
cannot  subdue  her  proud  spirit,  but  you  may  kill  her  love  for  you. 
A  pure  woman  will  never  submit  to  jealous  suspicion.  Don't 
put  a  'curb  bit'  on  her;  let  her  go  her  own  way  for  awhile, 


148  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

and  she  will  soon  tire  of  it.  Remember,  you  are  fifteen  years 
older  than  she,  and  had  tired  of  society  before  she  entered  it. 
One  person  never  learns  by  another's  experienc  and  she  will 
just  have  to  learn  as  you  did,  that  society  is  no  good,  and  never 
satisfies  a  truly  noble  soul;  and  when  the  fitful  fever  is  over 
she  will  be  a  steady,  helpful,  loving  wife,  better  and  stronger, 
perhaps,  because  of  bitter  experiences." 

"Perhaps,"  returned  Jack,  cut  to  the  heart.  "But  my  God! 
the  risk,  doctor,  the  risk!  and  how  can  I  stand  to  have  her 
flirt — "  Jack  stopped  as  he  caught  the  doctor's  reproachful  and 
almost  contemptuous  glance.  For  a  moment  they  gazed  into  each 
other's  faces,  but  in  guilty  confusion,  the  lawyer  soon  dropped 
his  eyes.  The  doctor,  looking  straight  ahead,  spoke  musingly,  as 
if  to  himself: 

"Well,  well!  what  strange  critters  we  mortals  be  anyhow. 
There's  hardly  a  woman  living  who  is  not  good  enough  for  the 
best  of  men,  any  day  in  the  year!  Here's  a  fellow,  though, 
who  used  to  go  in  for  the  fastest  kind  of  a  life ;  he  flirted  with 
married  and  single ;  had  several  fights  about  other  men's  wives ; 
was  mixed  up  in  the  biggest  kind  of  a  scandal  and  did  a  lot 
of  things  he  wouldn't  dare  tell  his  wife  about.  Yet,  he  thinks 
he  deserves  an  angel  for  a  mate.  He  demands  that  his  little 
girl-wife  shall  fly  from  dangers  that  she  is  too  innocent  to  know 
exist,  and  he  would  raise  the  very  old  Harry,  if  she  should 
let  another  so  much  as  kiss  her  hand  in  mock  gallantry.  Well, 
well,  well." 

Jack  looked  at  his  old  friend  resentfully  and  said  in  a  hard 
strained  voice:  "I  would  break  your  head  if  you  were  any  one 
else.  I  never  would  have  thought  that  you  would  bring  up 
old  scores  like  this — things  that  have  been  forgotten  by  man  and 
forgiven  by  God.  I  am  painfully  surprised  and  grieved  to  think 
you,  who  I  thought  my  best  friend,  have  treasured  in  your 
heart  the  sins  of  my  youth.  I  think  you  have  missed  your 
calling.    You  should  have  been  the  preacher — not  I,"  bitterly. 

The  old  doctor  laughingly  ignored  Jack's  attitude,  and 
replied : 

"Bless  your  soul,  my  boy,  I  do  preach  every  day.  One 
doesn't  have  to  wear  the  long  tailed  coat  and  stove  pipe  hat  to 
become  a  preacher.  I'm  doing  my  best  just  now,  to  lead  a 
'wandering  sheep'  back  into  the  fold,  where  he  may  walk  in 
green  pastures  and  beside  the  still  waters ;  but  it's  a  contrary  old 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  149 

ram,  and  he  shakes  his  head,  shows  his  horns,  gives  a  snort  of 
defiance,  kicks  up  his  heels  and  declares  he'll  stay  out  till  he 
gets  ready  to  return  of  his  own  free  will;  and  maybe  then  the 
gate  will  be  closed  against  him  forever ;  poor  old  ram !  Or  maybe 
he'll  continue  to  wander  in  forbidden  paths,  till  after  awhile  his 
wool  will  be  so  full  of  briars,  thorns  and  cockle-burrs,  that  he'll 
bring  nothing  worth  having  to  his  master.  But  the  master  is  a 
good  shepeherd  and  can  shear  off  the  tangled  fleece,  and  if  the 
old  rascal  lives  long  enough,  he  may  at  last  furnish  a  little  pure 
white  wool  which  may  be  used  for  good  by  the  weaver  of  destiny. 
But  it  is  such  a  pity — such  a  waste  of  time  and — wool!" 

Jack  could  not  repress  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  saw  his  office 
in  sight.  He  was  anxious  to  get  away  from  this  friend  who  was 
too  honest  to  pat  him  on  the  back  and  call  him  "good  boy" 
under  any  and  all  circumstances.  Truly,  the  doctor  had  aggra- 
vated that  case  of  "blue  devils"  instead  of  bringing  him  relief. 

"Here  we  are  at  your  office,  and  I  haven't  given  you  the 
chance  to  get  a  word  in  edgeways,"  chuckled  the  doctor,  stopping 
his  machine. 

Jack  sprang  out.  His  accusing  conscience  bade  him  ascknowl- 
edge  the  truth  and  the  old  man's  wisdom,  but  it  was  hard  for 
this  strong  man  to  do.  He  could  not  confess,  even  to  this  life- 
long friend  that  he  had  lost  the  joys  of  salvation,though  he 
admitted  it  to  himself. 

His  hearty  grip  of  the  hand,  and  the  light  in  his  gray  eyes 
spoke  more  eloquently  than  words  could  have  done,  though  he 
did  manage  to  stammer  confusedly : 

"Doctor,  you  are  my  one  true  friend — in  spite  of  all — in 
spite  of  how  you  have  hurt  me — I  know  that,  and  I  thank  you. 
But  it  hurts,  oh!  how  it  hurts."  The  doctor  still  clung  to  his 
hand : 

"Yes,  my  boy,  it  hurts  to  probe  for  a  bullet  or  to  pull  a 
tooth ;  but  when  all  is  over  and  the  wound  healed,  all  parties 
repoice.  It  hurts  a  doctor  to  do  surgical  work,  but  he  knows 
what  is  best  for  his  patient,  and  goes  ahead  cutting  off  legs, 
arms  or  whatever  is  required  to  save  life.  It  is  not  at  all  pleas- 
ant work,  but  the  end  justifies  the  means.  God  bless  you,  Jack, 
jump  back  into  the  pasture,  and  my  word  for  it,  all  will  come 
right  at  last.  Good-bye,  my  dear  boy,  good-bye,"  and  the  doctor 
was  gone. 

Jack  went  slowly  up  the  office  steps,  his  heart  and  soul 


150  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  • 

stirred  with  conflicting  emotions.  He  was  miserable.  That  song 
and  the  half  sobbing  voice  of  the  singer  haunted  him.  He 
wished  he  had  followed  the  impulse  of  his  heart  and  had  gone 
into  the  parlor  and  taken  the  little  woman  in  his  arms.  But 
then,  why  hadn't  she  met  him  at  breakfast,  if  she  really  was 
"longing  for  the  flowers  that  had  blossomed  and  fled."  He  hardly 
knew  which  he  wanted  most,  peace  with  God,  or  peace  with 
Theo.  Could  he  have  both  ?  If  he  turned  to  God  as  he  fervently 
wished  he  could  do,  he  could  never  allow  another  ball  in  his 
house — nor  sanction  one  by  his  presence.  And  what  would  Theo 
say  to  such  restrictions? 

Slowly  it  dawned  on  his  mind  that  if  he  had  always  stood 
firm  and  strong  on  his  convictions  of  right,  she  would  have 
respected  his  wishes  and  have  had  more  reason  to  respect  him. 
But  during  their  honeymoon  they  had  attended  balls  innumer- 
able, and  he,  too,  had  danced  and  wajtzed  with  the  gayest,  and 
when  he  wanted  to  "call  a  halt"  she  was  not  at  all  ready;  and  as 
he  seemingly  for  a  time  enjoyed  them  as  he  did  years  ago,  what 
could  he  say? 

Jimmie,  the  bright  sixteen-year-old  red  headed,  freckled 
faced,  blue-eyed  office  boy,  had  already  swept,  dusted  and  placed 
everything  in  apple-pie  order,  and  was  looking  earnestly  through 
a  ponderous  volume  of  law.  His  face  brightened  when  Jack 
entered  and  greeted  him  pleasantly,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  the 
boy  loved  his  employer  devotedly.  Presently  he  spoke,  and  his 
voice  had  a  ring  of  decision  : 

"I've  given  up  being  like  you,  Mr.  Jack."  Jack  caught  his 
breath.    Had  he  fallen  in  Jimmie's  estimation,  too? 

"Glad  to  hear  it,  Jimmie ;  I'm  certainly  not  worthy  to  be 
your  model — I  know  that  much,"  humbly. 

"Mr.  Jack,  you  are  the  best  man  living.  Where  would  I  be 
now  if  you,  hadn't  taken  me  offen  the  streets?  Where  was  I 
headed  to?  Why,  straight  to  perdition,  with  a  full  head  of 
steam  and  no  brakes,  no  father*  no  mother  to  love  me  or  care 
what  became  of  my  carcass.  But  words  ain't  no  account, — it'll 
take  the  devotion  and  love  of  my  whole  life,  to  repay  what  I  owe 
you.  But  I  just  meant  I  won't  be  a  lawyer  as  we  have  planned 
and  talked  about.  I'd  never  learn  all  this,"  tapping  the  big 
book.     "But  I  am  going  to  be  a  detective,"  earnestly. 

"Oh,  well,  then,  we  will  still  be  partners,"  smiling.  "You 
can  catch  the  game  and  I'll  skin  'em." 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  lol 

• 

CHAPTER  III. 

"Some  trifle  light  as  nothing 

Caused  our  difference  at  first  ; 
But  in  my  heart  the  planting 

Of  the  anger  seed  I  nursed, 
Until  it  grew  and  strengthened, 

A  weed  with  blooms  full  blown, 
And  now  I  reap  the  harvest 

Of  the  seed  in  passion  sown." 

Jimmie  detected  something  wrong  in  the  loved  voice,  and 
glancing  with  quick  concern  at  his  employer's  troubled  face,  he 
felt  instinctively  that  his  levity  was  assumed  and  his  cheerful- 
ness forced. 

"Oh,  yes,  a  ball  last  night,"  he  mused.  "Mr.  Jack  is  always 
like  this  after  a  big  to-do.  Wonder  why?  I'd  never  want  to 
go  to  one  of  the  blamed  things  if  I  thought  they'd  effect  me 
that  way." 

The  lawyer  had  taken  a  seat  at  his  desk,  showing  very  little 
interest  in  the  pile  of  unopened  mail  that  Jimmie  had  carefully 
arranged  near  to  his  hand.  But  there  was  something  else  on 
the  desk  that  had  the  man's  immediate  attention.  It  was  a 
lovely  photograph  of  his  wife  taken  two  years  ago,  when  a  bride 
of  one  year.  The  face  was  pure  and  innocent  as  a  little  child's 
and  gazed  with  a  kind  of  soft  rapture  from  the  frame  of  crimson 
plush.  Theo  had  placed  the  picture  there  when  first  taken,  and 
when  he  thanked  her,  she  had  playfully  pulled  his  ears  and  in 
mock  solemnity,  declared  it  was  to  remind  him  of  her  existence 
when  he  had  lady  clients  calling  for  advice. 

Just  now  he  looked  on  the  picture  with  mingled  tenderness 
and  regret,  studying  every  feature  as  if  each  line  and  curve 
were  not  indelibly  stamped  upon  his  heart.  The  memory  of  last 
night's  stormy  interview  was  like  lead  in  his  bosom,  and  oppress- 
ed him  with  a  sense  of  uneasiness.  He  had  never  seen  Theo 
like  that  before,  though  they  quarreled  frequently  of  late.  Ah, 
why  had  he  not  gone  to  her  there  in  the  parlor?  Wasn't  that 
song  a  prayer  for  his  love? — for  the  sweet  things  that  had  fled 
from  their  lives?  Was  her  heart  aching  as  his?  Did  she  care? 
— if  so  why  did  she  refuse  him  a  good-night  kiss?  Then  his 
accusing  conscience  cried :      "She  did  right — you    refused    her 


152  »  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

first !  Do  you  expect  always  to  bend  that  lovely  creature  to  your 
will?  Is  she  a  child  to  be  petted  one  moment  and  scolded  the 
next?  Didn't  she  plead  for  your  love?  Didn't  she  show  that  in 
her  heart  she  longed  to  share  all  things  in  common  with  you? 
Had  you  encouraged  her  she  would  have  opened  her  heart  to  you 
as  she  has  not  done  for  so  long.  But  no,  you  treated  her  worse 
than  a  brute  would  have  done — scorned  her  tender  pleading  and 
even  insulted  her  beyond  pardon  when  she  timidly  spoke  on  a 
subject  which  she  had  never  before  approached." 

How  could  he  have  been  so  cruel?  Jack  wondered.  It  was 
then  that  she  had  so  bitterly  denounced  him,  declaring  she  would 
no  longer  submit  to  such  treatment.  •  Oh,  heaven ;  had  he 
wounded  her  past  forgiveness?  He  realized  at  last  that  she 
was  no  longer  a  child,  but  a  proud,  passionate  woman,  such  as 
he  had  never  dreamed  of  her  being.  With  a  pang  of  remorse  he 
remembered  her  childish,  trusting  confidence  during  the  first 
year  of  their  married  life ;  how  she  would  hide  in  the  shrubbery 
or  swing  on  the  front  gate,  waiting  for  him  in  the  evening ;  how 
her  lovely  face  would  light  up  at  sight  of  him  and  she  would  -cry 
out  in  glad  welcome: — "Oh,  Jack;  home  at  last,  you  dear  old 
precious  darling,"  and  he  would  playfully  retort,  "You  kiss  my 
foot,"  while  she  would  declare  she  loved  him  well  enough  to  do 
that  very  thing,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  in  doors  she  would 
almost  smother  him  in  kisses.  Then  she  would  help  him  take 
off  his  over  coat  and  would  bring  his  slippers,  bustling  around 
in  a  sweet  little  fussy  way  until  he  was  seated  in  a  great  arm 
chair;  then  she  would  sit  on  a  low  hassock  at  his  feet,  leaning 
lovingly  against  him,  or  perch  herself  on  the  chair  arm,  with 
both  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  her  face  against  his,  she 
would  tell  him  of  every  little  detail,  of  the  day,  talking  in  a 
cheery,  bird-like  way,  ever  and  anon  calling  him  her  "own 
darling." 

He  remembered  too, — how  distinctly! — that  he  had  grown 
a  little  tired  of  such  childish  "gush,"  and  had  tried  in  a  clumsy, 
blundering  way  to  make  her  understand  that  he  would  like  for 
her  to  be  a  little  more  dignified  and  a  little  less  demonstrative. 
He  remembered  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  how  she  had  drawn 
awaj"  from  his  arms  and  gazed  with  wide  troubled  eyes  for  a 
full  minute  into  his  face,  seeking  evidence  that  she  had  misun- 
derstood; how  at  last  the  dark  eyes  filled  with  tears,  the  sweet 
lips  trembled  and  her  cheeks  grew  white  as  she  spoke  in  puzzled 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  153 

amazement : 

"Do  you  mean,  dearest,  that  when  you  come  home  after 
being  away  from  me  all  the  long  day,  I  must  not  run  to  the 
gate  to  meet  you? — I  must  not  be  so  glad  to  have  you  with  me 
again? — I  must  not  caress  you? — must  check  every  impulse 
which  says  so  plainly  that  I  love  you?  All  right!  Your  royal 
highness  shall  be  obeyed."  Then  she  had  fled  from  him,  locked 
herself  in  her  room  and  refused  to  come  out  or  admit  him, 
and  for  two  long  hours  he  had  paced  up  and  down  the  hall,  alter- 
nately cursing  himself  for  wounding  the  "sensitive  child,"  and 
pleading  at  the  door  for  a  chance  to  explain.  But  he  had  never 
been  able  to  make  a  satisfactory  explanation,  and  since  that  day 
had  never  received  an  unsought  caress,  nor  had  any  reason  to 
complain  of  childish  "gush." 

Oh,  if  he  could  just  have  Theo  back  as  she  was  in  those 
happy  days — sweet  and  innocent,  trusting  and  confiding!  Oh, 
to  have  the  comforting  assurance  that  a  vision  of  girlish  loveli- 
ness would  be  hidden  in  the  shrubbery  or  swinging  on  the 
gate  to  welcome  him  home — that  a  soft  little  hand  would  steal 
into  his  on  the  walk  to  the  house!  Oh,  to  have  her  perched  on 
his  chair  with  her  arms  twined  lovingly  around  his  neck  in  that 
sweet  , childish  way  that  had  once  wearied  him.  Oh,  to  hear 
those  rose-bud  lips  whisper  between  loving  kisses  as  of  old,  "My 
precious,  darling  boy!"  But  the  past  was  gone — could  never  be 
recalled — all  was  over  now, — she  had  said  she  would  never  for- 
give him.  Jack  groaned  aloud  in  anguish,  forgetting  the  young 
"detective"  who  was  watching  him  in  deep  concern  and  much 
perplexity,  and  now  swiftly  crossing  the  room,  stood  at  his  side : 

"Got  a  headache,  Mr.  Jack?  CanJ  do  anything  for  you?" 
anxiously. 

"No,  Jimmie,  no, — just  suffering  a  reaction  from  last 
night's  revelry." 

"Had  a  swell  time,  I  guess,  didn't  you?" 

"That's  probably  the  popular  verdict.  But  I  pronounce  it  a 
dickens  of  a  time — something  especially  pleasing  to  the  devil, 
I  think."     Jimmie's  eyes  opened  wide  in  surprise. 

"Don  t  you  enjoy  'em,  Mr.  Jack?" 

The  lawyer  laughed  bitterly : 

No,  Jimmie,  not  as  I  once  did.  The  devil  shows  his  hoofs, 
horns  and  tail  too  plainlv.  He  is  not  at  all  discreet  when  at  a 
ball." 


154  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"Well,  beg  pardon,  sir; — but  why  do  you  go  in  for  such 
things  then?" 

"Oh,  it's  a  duty  we  owe  society,  my  boy — and  you'd  better 
spell  society  with  every  letter  a  capital,"  sarcastically. 

The  hours  dragged  slowly  away.  There  were  several  clients 
and  an  extra  amount  of  business  to  attend  to,  so  the  lawyer 
could  not  run  home  for  his  two  o'clock  lunch  as  he  had  hoped, 
and  phoned  to  Theo  that  he  would  go  to  a  restaurant  as  usual  on 
busy  days.  He  tried  to  .get  up  a  conversation  with  her,  but  "All 
right,"  "yes,"  and  "no,"  were  the  only  responses  that  came 
from  her,  and  he  said  "good-bye"  reluctantly,  turning  from  the 
phone  with  a  sigh  that  was  not  lost  on  the  observant  Jimmie, 
who  had  covertly  watched  him  all  day  with  his  blue  eyes  half 
closed  in  that  peculiar  way  he  had,  when  puzzling  over  a  hard 
problem. 

It  was  now  half -past  three  and  the  busy  man  saw  no  chance 
to  get  away  before  seven,  or  later,  and  bit  his  lips  with  impati- 
ence, feeling  half  inclined  to  go  out  and  tear  down  his  sign  and 
throw  up  the  whole  thing.  He  wondered  with  a  sickening  sense 
of  desolation,  how  he  could  go  home  at  all,  if  Theo  really  should 
go  to  Europe,  with  twelve  long  months  and  hundreds  of  miles 
separating  them.  In  the  meantime,  Jimmie's  quick  wit  and 
keen  perception  had  solved  the  problem,  at  least  to  his  own  sat- 
isfactnon.  He  felt  intuitively  that  there  had  been  a  domestic 
jar,  but  it  could  be  nothing  serious,  he  was  sure.  Looking  from 
the  window  he  suddenly  called  out  suggestively : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Jack !  Just  look  across  at  the  florist's.  Did  you 
ever  see  such  lovely  carnations  ?  Gee !  when  I  get  rich  and  have 
a  purty  wife,  I'll  send  her  some  like  them.  Say,  now  wouldn't 
Mrs.  Theo  have  a  fit  over  them  beauties?  I've  heard  her  say 
lots  of  times  when  she  was  up  her,  and  admiring  the  florist's 
flowers,  that  carnations  were  her  favorites." 

Jack  glanced  furtively  at  the  boy,  and  mentally  decided 
that  "the  young  rascal"  really  had  detective  ability.  Taking  a 
bill  from  his  pocket,  he  said  to  Jimmie :  "Go  and  get  the  finest 
dozen  he  has — no — wait.  I'll  select  them  myself,"  he  added, 
reaching  for  his  hat. 

"That  would  be  better,  Mr.  Jack,  and  she  will  appreciate 
'em  more."  Jack  soon  returned  with  the  fragrant  flowers  beau- 
tifully arranged  in  a  long  moss  lined  box  of  artistic  design,  and 
with  the  light  of  a  new  resolve  in  his  eyes.     Seating  himself  at 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  155 

his  desk  and  glancing  at  the  lovely  photo  before  him,  the  stern, 
cynical  lawyer  yielded  to  a  tender  impulse,  and  wrote  his  wife 
a  love  letter,  every  line  breathing  forth  the  anguish  and  remorse 
of  his  heart,  and  pleading  for  a  return  of  what  he  had  lost. 

"Dearest,  darling  little  wife :  I  have  been  a  brute  and  am 
not  worthy  to  be  forgiven ;  but  if  you  knew  how  terribly  I  have 
suffered  and  how  sincerely  repented  through  this  day  which 
seems  unending,  your  tender  heart  would  pity  and  forgive  me. 
Dearest  one,  I  think  I  never  loved  you  so  much  -as  now  when  I 
begin  to  fear  that  I  have  lost  your  love.  I,  too,  am  'longing  for 
the  flowers  that  have  blossomed  and  fled.'  Dear  heart,  be  gen- 
erous and  give  me  the  chance  to  make  the  flowers  bloom  again. 
Oh,  my  little  angel,  I  never  have  been  and  never  shall  be  worthy 
of  you^  but  if  you  will  come  back  to  my  heart  as  in  the  sweet 
happy  past,  I  will  be  true  to  the  trust.  Darling,  try  and  under- 
stand that  it  was  my  great  love  that  made  me  so  insanely 
jealous.  Didn't  you  know  it,  Pet?  Meet  me  this  evening  down 
at  the  gate  just  as  you  used  to  do — please  do.  And  then  if  you 
want  to  make  me  the  happiest  man  in  existence,  when  we  get 
into  the  house,  come  to  me  of  your  own  sweet  will,  throw  your 
arms  around  my  neck  and  call  me  your  'Boy,'  for  my  heart  is 
starving  for  your  sweet  caresses.  Sweetheart,  it  is  such  a  short 
time  till  you  go  to  Europe — if  you  really  will  go  and  leave  your 
'Boy.'  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  forgive  me  and  let  us  be  happy 
while  we  may.  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  my  precious  one  this 
evening  I  can  hardly  wait  till  I  can  tear  myself  away  from  this 
hateful  office  and  come  to  you,  my  own.  Now,  dearest,  please 
accept  these  flowers  and  this  note  as  proof  of  my  sincere  repent- 
ance, and  come  to  the  gate  to  meet  your  'Boy'  if  you  love  him 
ever  so  little.    Bye-bye,  till  I  see  my  Pet.    Your  own  Jack." 

Perhaps  the  lawyer  would  have  been  ashamed  of  his  note, 
and  called  it  too  much  "gush"  if  he  had  taken  time  to  read  it 
over;  but  a  client  came  in  just  then,  and  hastily  placing  the  note 
in  among  the  flowers  he  tied  the  box  carefully  with  violet  rib- 
bons and  sent  Jimmie  to  deliver  them  to  Theo.  The  boy  felt 
that  he  was  a  messenger  of  peace,  and  with  joy  in  his  loyal  heart, 
was  soon  ringing  the  bell  at  the  Arlington  home.  Theo  opened 
the  door  herself  and  came  out  dressed  in  a  dark  traveling 
costume,  with  heavy  veil  over  her  face.  A  cab  man  came  out 
with  a  heavy  valise  and  took  it  to  a  carriage  that  was  waiting 
at  the  gate.     Theo  did  not  notice  Jimmie  till  he  spoke : 


156  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"Here  is  a  present  from  Mr.  Jack  and  it  seems  that  I  got  here 
just  in  time — It's  a  box  of  carnations,  madam,  the  finest  I  ever 
ever  seen  in  my  life,"  he  stammered  placing  the  box  in  her  hands 
with  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  something  was  wrong. 

"Thank  you,  Jimmie — and  thank  Jack;  but  no — you  didn't 
get  them  here  in  time,"  and  Jimmie  detected  a  queer  little  catch  in 
her  voice.  Then  she  walked  quickly  out  to  the  carriage,  sprang 
in  and  closed  the  doqr,  and  was  driven  rapidly  away  leaving 
Jimmie  looking  after  her  in  deep  perplexity. 

"Gee!  something  is  wrong — I  feel  it  in  my  bones.  There's 
a  screw  loose  somewhere  in  this  here  domestic  machinery.  But 
no,  maybe  I'm  too.  smart.  I  hain't  seen  anything  to  rouse  my 
suspicion — no,  by  jings,  it's  what  I  feel  in  the  wind,  that  gets 
me  all  choked  up  and  my  mind  befuddled."  But  try  as  he  would, 
Jimmie  could  not  banish  that  oppressive  something  that  whis- 
pered that  trouble  was  in  store  for  his  beloved  Mr.  Jack,  though 
he  never  dreamed  how  terribly  serious.  He  hurried  back  to  the 
office  but  there  were  several  people  claiming  the  attention  of  the 
lawyer,  and  it  was  more  than  an  hour  before  he  had  the  chance 
to  speak:  . 

"I  got  there  just  as  she  was  going  out  somewhere,  Mr.  Jack, 
and  she  said  they  did  not  come  in  time,  but  sent  thanks." 

"Did  not  come  in  time  for  what?  Good  God! — "  he  gasped, 
dropping  into  his  seat.  Then  bravely  pulling  himself  together, 
he  continued : 

"Oh,  yes,  she  was  going  to  the  big  ball,  I  suppose.  Who  had 
come  for  her — Lady  Carruther?"  trying  to  hide  his  agony  and 
suspense. 

"That  was  just  it,  I  guess,  Mr.  Jack,  for  she  had  a  valise; 
guess  her  dress  was  in  there.  And  she  was  going  ahead  to  have  a 
little  visit.  No,  sir,  there  wasn't  anybody  else  as  I  saw, — only 
the  cab  man."  returned  Jimmie,  his  heart  aching  with  appre- 
hension. 

"And  she  did  not  take  the  flowers —  did  not  open  the  box — 
nor  read  the  note?"  and  the  lawyer's  hands  trembled  in  spite  of 
his  efforts  at  self  control. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,  she  took  'em  with  her.  She  was  in  a  big 
hurry.      Guess  she  opened  the  box  soon  as  she  was  in  the  car- 
riage." The  lawyer  scorned  to  quiz  the  boy  or  let  him  see  the 
effect  his  information  was  having.     But  it  was  in  vain  that  he 
fought  against  the  icy  hand  that  clutched  at  his  heart,  and  curtly 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  157 

dismissed  his  remaining  client,  saying  it  was  his  hour  to  close, 
Jack  was  soon  on  his  way  home.  No  one  met  him  at  the  gate. 
No  sweet  vision  of  girlish  beauty  met  him  at  the  door  with  lov- 
ing words  of  welcome.  No  soft  white  arms  were  twined  around 
his  neck — there  were  no  rosebud  lips  waiting  to  caress  him. 
Jack  groaned  aloud.  A  distant  jingle  of  silver  told  him  that 
faithful  old  Chloe  was  arranging  his  supper  but  where,  or  where, 
could  Theo  be? 

"Calling  the  house  keeper  and  assuming  an  I-know-all-about 
-it  air,  he  quietly  asked  if  Theo  had  left  any  final  message  for 
him. 

"Oh,  yes  sir.  She  was  dreadfully  cut  up  about  leaving  with- 
out seeing  you  again,  but  it  was  so  near  train  time  when  the  tele- 
gram came  and  she  said  her  friend  was  at  the  point  of  death. 
Yes,  sir,  there's  a  letter  on  your  desk." 

"All  right,  thank  you,"  And  lighting  a  cigar,  Jack  walked 
unconcernedly  to  his  room,  entered  and  closed  the  door.  Had  she 
really  gone  to  the  bedside  of  a  dying  friend  or  was  that  just  a 
simple  ruse  to  outwit  the  house  keeper,  and  keep  the  servants 
from  gossiping?  Oh,  God,"  he  groaned,  dashing  the  cigar  from 
the  window  and  sinking  into  a  chair,  "Oh,  God,  have  mercy  on 
me  — be  good  to  me  this  once!"  and  with  trembling  hands  he 
opened  the  letter : 

"Good-bye,  Jack,  good-bye  forever,  I  know  you  do  not  love 
me  and  tolerate  me  only  because  you  dread  public  opinion.  I  care 
nothing  for  it,  and  have  left  you  forever.  Don't  try  to  find  me, 
for  it  would  be  a  vain  endeavor  and  I'd  die  before  I'd  submit  to 
such  insults  as  you  heaped  upon  me  last  night.  I'll  never  forgive 
you — no,  never !  You  can  tell  "society"  that  I  have  gone  to  Boston 

to  see  a  sick  friend,   and  that  I  will  go  from  there  to  

anywhere  you  please. 

"Oh,  Jack,  this  is  so  hard  to  bear.  My  heart  almost  fails  me, 
but  you  have  said  that  you  are  sorry,  and  that  we  are  as  far  apart 
as  the  poles ;  so  farewell.  I  hope  you  will  be  happy,  though  I  am 
heart-broken. 

.      Theo." 


158  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO 'WEAVE  ROOM 

CHAPTER  IV 

"If  thou  but  suffer  God  to  guide  thee, 
And  hope  in  Him  through  all  thy  ways, 
He'll  give  thee  strength,  whate'er  betide  thee 

And  bear  thee  through  the  evil  days. 
Who  trusts  in  God's  unchanging  love, 
Builds  on  a  Rock  that  naught  can  move. 

"God  knows  full  well  when  gladness 

Shall  be  the  needful  thing  for  thee ; 
When  He  has  tried  thy  soul  with  sadness, 
And  from  all  guile  has  found  thee  free, 
He'll  come  to  thee  all  unaware, 
And  make  thee  own  his  loving  care." 

When  Dr.  Brown  reached  his  home  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  he  drew  a  deep  tired  sigh.  Perhaps,  too,  there  was 
more  than  weariness  in  that  sigh.  The  great  house  seeemed  as 
lonely  to  the  old  man  as  when  his  companion  had  first  left  him, 
for  her  Home  above.  In  his  daily  ministrations  among  high  and 
low,  rich  and  poor,  he  saw  much  sorrow  and  suffering  of  heart 
and  soul,  caused  by  cruel  and  thoughtless  words  and  actions,  but 
somehow  he  had  never  before  been  so  deeply  interested,  as  m 
the  trouble  he  had  run  across  today. 

How  strange  it  was,  he  thought,  that  people  would  not  be 
happy  when  they  could.  Ah,  if  Jack  and  Theo  would  only  profit 
by  the  bitter  experiences  of  others — if  they  could  only  under- 
stand that  half  the  misery  in  the  world  is  caused  by  the  sowing 
of  seeds  of  unkind  thoughts — and  then  the  inevitable  reaping. 
"There's  nothing  in  the  world  to  keep  those  two  children  from 
being  happy,  if  they  would  only  be  reasonably  sensible  and  for- 
bearing. It's  so  easy.  I  know  they  love  each  other.  But  ah,  me. 
Theo  has  never  tasted  the  joys  of  salvation,  and  Jack  is  in  a 
worse  fix  than  if  he  never  had,  I  do  believe.  God  can  straighten 
it  all  out  though,  if  they  will  only  let  Him,"  he  concluded. 

As  the  doctor  walked  into  his  study,  a  man  with  tousled 
hair,  pale,  haggard,  cold  and  trembling,  staggered  forward  to 
meet  him,  with  hands  outstretched  piteously  and  entreatingly. 
The  light  was  burning  brightly  but  the  doctor  did  not  at  first 
recognize  his  visitor.     When  he  did  so  he  caught  him    by    the 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  159 

shoulders  and  gazed  with  consternation  into  the  suffering  man's 
face  and  exclaimed : 

"Why,  Jack!  what  is  the  matter?  My  boy,  what  is  it?" 
in  alarm.  All  thought  of  fatigue  was  gone  now,  and  the  good 
old  man  was  concerned  only  for  his  friend,  whose  answer  was  a 
deep  groan  of  mental  anguish,  and  a  silent,  despairing  shake  of 
his  head. 

"Jack — there,  sit  down  and  tell  me  your  trouble,"  gently 
pushing  him  into  a  chair."  "Is  Theo  ill? — why  did  you  leave 
her?"  But  Jack  answered  not  a  word,  and  stared  at  the  doctor 
in  that  awful  unseeing  way  which  bordered  on  insanity.  Truly 
unless  his  mind  was  soon  relieved,  the  results  would  be  serious. 
Touching  an  electric  button  which  summoned  a  servant,  the  doc- 
tor ordered  a  glass  of  wine,  and  forced  it  down  the  lawyer's  dry 
throat.  Then  he  drew  a  chair  up  close,  and  gently  and  lovingly 
as  a  woman,  he  stroked  the  cold  and  trembling  hands  and  talked 
in  soft,  soothing  manner,  while  his  heart  was  silently  pleading 
aid  from  on  high,  a  source  which  never  failed  him.  Presently 
he  said,  firmly: 

"Now  Jack,  you  must  tell  me  at  once  what  is  wrong." 

"I've  killed  her — my  beautiful  Theo — last  night  after  the 
ball,"  came  a  queer  voice. 

"Now,  Jack,"  shaking  him  playfully,  "that  won't  do — I've 
seen  her  twice  today,  and  she  was  very  much  alive,  I  think." 

"But  she  is  dead — dead  to  me — and  all  my  fault!  Oh,  poor 
little  girl !  Doctor  you  opened  my  eyes  this  morning,  and  I  had 
determined  to  profit  by  the  lesson.  I  have  been  a  jealous  brute 
of  late, — but  I  loved  her  to  distraction  and  could  not  bear  to  see 
her  smile  so  sweetly  on  others.  I  have  killed  her  love  for  me — 
I  am  wretched  and  undone!  Read  that,"  thrusting  a  crumpled 
note  into  the  doctor's  hand.  It  was  Theo's  note,  and  the  good 
old  man  read  it  with  an  aching  heart  and  silently  returned  it. 
Jack  broke  out  again : 

"Doctor,  stand  by  me  in  this  dark  hour  of  trial,  and  tell  me 
what  to  do.  I  have  just  sense  enough  to  know  that  I  am  on  the 
verge  of  insanity.  Help  me,  or  I  shall  go  mad."  Oh,  it  was 
pitiful ! 

"My  poor  boy!  Of  course  I'll  stand  by  you.  But  this  is  so 
serious  that  I  dare  make  no  move  till  we  get  advice  from  higher 
source. 

You  mean  to  call  in  detectives?"  groaned  Jack. 


160  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"No,  I  had  not  thought  of  that.  I  mean — Jack  will  you 
kneel  with  me  in  prayer?"  in  a  deep  troubled  voice.  Jack's  heart 
rose  in  rebellion : 

"Pray?  Waste  time  praying  to  a  cruel  and  unjust  God  who 
punishes  me  when  I  am  making  every  effort  to  reform?  I  feel 
more  like — " 

"Stop !  no  more !  No  man  living,  be  he  in  the  lowest  depths 
of  despair,  shall  speak  so  to  me  of  my  heavenly  Father,  and  go 
unreproved.  I  love  you,  but  I  love  my  Maker  more,  and — Jack, 
will  you  kneel  with  me?"  the  old  doctor's  passionate  protest 
ended  in  a  tender  plea,  and  without  another  word,  poor  Jack 
sank  in  humble  silence  to  his  knees  by  his  friend,  who  grasped 
his  hand  as  if  determined  to  take  him  to  a  throne  of  grace,  and 
prayed  as  man  seldom  prays — as  if  looking  into  the  face  of  his 
heavenly  father,  and  believing  implicitly  in  his  love  and  wisdom : 

"Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth  we,  thy  little  children 
are  in  trouble  and  sore  distress,  and  come  to  Thee  for  help.  We 
cannot  see  through  the  dark  clouds  of  providence,  but  help  us  to 
trust  thy  plain  and  positive  promises.  Thou  hast  said,  'Fear 
not  I  am  With  thee ;  be  not  dismayed ;  For  I  am  thy  God.  When 
thou  passeth  the  waters  I  will  be  with  thee;  and  through  the 
rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee ;  when  thou  walkest  through 
the  fire  thou  shalt  not  be  burned ;  neither  shall  the  flames  kindle 
upon  thee.' 

"Oh,  Father,  we  thank  thee  for  such  sweet  promises,  and 
for  the  comforting  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  We  know  that 
Thou  art  able  to  straighten  out  all  this  tangle  which  so  distresses 
and  perplexes  us,  and  make  everything  work  out  for  our  good 
and  Thy  glory.  The  tempest  may  howl  and  Satan  may  press  us 
hard,  but  Jesus  reigns  forever.  No  earthly  woe  can  mar  Thy 
work  or  change  Thy  decree,  and  though  the  way  is  sometimes 
dark,  we  know  there  is  light  beyond.  What  Thou  doest  we  know 
not  now,  but  we  shall  know  bye  and  bye,  and  will  acknowl- 
edge it  was  for  the  best.  Strengthen  our  faint  hearts  with  the 
blessed  assurance  that  Thou  hast  never  forsaken  a  soul  that 
trusted  in  Thee  for  help  in  time  of  trouble.  Oh,  God,  cast  out 
every  fear;  bid  every  doubt  be  gone,  and  let  us  feel  that  under- 
neath are  the  everlasting  arms.  Comfort  us,  oh  Father,  and  give 
us  that  faith  which  gilds  the  darkened  hour.  We  resign  all  into 
Thy  wise  hands  and  trust  Thee  to  guide  and  direct  our  steps 
through  the  difficulties  which  lie  before  us.    Be  with  the  absent 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  161 

one,  Oh,  God,  watch  over  and  guard  her  from  all  harm.  Save 
her,  oh  Father,  and  when  it  seemeth  good  to  Thee,  reunite  these 
sundered  hearts  and  make  them  one  for  Thee.  We  ask  it  all  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  and  for  his  sake.    Amen." 

"Surely  God  will  hear  your  prayer — He  loves  you,"  ex- 
claimed the  lawyer  hopefully  as  they  rose  from  their  knees. 
Thank  heaven  for  such  a  friend  as  you  are." 

"But  Jack,  there's  still  another  friend  if  you  will  accept 
Him — one  who  'sticketh  closer  than  a  brother,'  returned  the  doc- 
tor, earnestly.  Then  after  a  pause :  "My  boy,  how  many  know 
of  this?" 

"No  one  besides  ourselves — but  Jimmie  suspects  something 
I  think.  The  servants  think  she's  gone  to  Boston  to  see  a  sick 
friend.  They  surely  don't  know  that  she  took  only  a  valise.  But 
what  shall  I  do?  For  God's  sake  let's  do  something  or  I  shall 
go  mad,"  groaned  Jack. 

"You  don't  want  this  made  public  if  it  can  be  helped,  so 
brace  up  and  act  your  part  like  a  man.  Do  you  know  how  much 
money  she  took  with  her?" 

"Five  thousand  dollars.  The  rest  of  her  money  she  made 
over  to  me.    As  if  I  could  touch  it — oh,  Theo!" 

"How  did  she  manage  it?"  gasped  the  doctor. 

"Why  she  simply  made  out  two  checks  of  ten  thousand  each, 
made  payable  to  me,  and  left  them  with  the  note,"  and  the  lawyer 
almost  choked. 

"Well,  well,  she's  sharp.  But  you  keep  a  stiff  upped  lip,  my 
boy,  and  I  am  sure  we  shall  soon  find  her,"  encouraged  the  doc- 
tor. 

"Oh,  poor  little  girl!  Poor  little  Theo!  I'd  give  my  life — 
my  very  soul,  to  have  you  back  again,"  and  Jack  was  almost  be- 
side himself. 

"Now,  Jack,  brace  up.  Have  faith  in  God.  Just  as  sure  as 
He  rules  on  high  He  will  bring  you  back  together  some  sweet 
day,  and  you  will  love  each  other  better  for  all  this  trouble.  If 
I  live  long  enough,  I  fully  expect  to  hear  you  acknowledge  that 
this  trial  was  the  greatest  blessing  that  was  ever  bestowed  upon 
you.  Trials,  troubles  and  tribulations  are  necessary,  Jack,  and 
they  are  bound  to  come.  These  light  afflictions  which  are  but  for 
a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more    exceeding    and    eternal 


162  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

weight  of  glory." 

"Doctor,  I'd  be  so  glad  if  I  could  believe  and  trust  in  God 
just  as  you  do.  I  know  it  would  bring  comfort  to  my  soul.  But 
I  forgot  Him  in  days  of  happiness  and  prosperity,  and  cannot — 
will  not,  go  to  Him  now.  If  I  had  been  true  to  Him,  I  might 
approach  Him  with  confidence." 

"Well,  Jack,  if  you  will  not  be  led  by  the  hand  of  mercy, 
you  may  expect  to  be  driven  by  the  hand  of  justice.  God  will 
have -His  own." 

After  a  long  talk  in  which  many  plans  were  discussed,  it 
was  decided  that  Jimmie  must  know.  The  lawyer  was  confident 
that  it  was  perfectly  safe  to  trust  the  boy,  and  besides,  it  was 
necessary  to  question  him  concerning  the  cab  man.  They  also 
decided  to  place  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  private  detectives, 
with  instructions  to  work  secretly.  They  hoped  to  have  the  fair 
fugitive  back  before  gossiping  tongues  began  to  wag,  and  to  keep 
the  dreadful  truth  from  becoming  public.  After  a  few  days 
had  passed  and  no  satisfactory  clue  had  been  obtained,  Jack  Ar- 
lington, a  man  who  had  always  prided-  himself  on  his  strong 
will  and  self  control,  gave  way  to  numb  despair  and  was  unfit 
for  business.  He  could  not  go  through  the  farce  of  playing  in- 
difference, when  his  whole  heart  and  soul  were  torn  with  ten 
thousand  conflicting  emotions.    Where,  oh,  where  could  Theo  be? 

Who  had  helped  her  to  plan  such  a  thing?  Had  any  one? 
How  could  she,  dear  little  thing,  who  had  always  been  so  de- 
pendent on  him  to  direct  her,  how  could  she  so  successfully  have 
hidden  her  tracks?  Had  a  fate  worse  than  death  overtaken  her? 
Had  she  been  lured  from  home  by  some  one  she  trusted  and 
forcibly  placed  in  some  den  of  vice?  These  and  other  horrible 
thoughts  presented  themselves  before  the  man's  mind  while  con- 
science loudly  declared  that  he  alone  was  the  cause  of  it  all,  and 
no  wonder  the  man  was  almost  mad. 

Then  the  thought  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  found — the 
very  fr?.t  that  she  had  declared  she  would  never  forgive  him, 
haunted  him  day  and  night,  waking  or  sleeping.  But  the  doctor 
tried  to  encourage  him,  and  always  quoted  these  sentences  from 
her  note:  "Oh,  Jack,  this  is  hard  to  bear.  My  heart  almost 
fails  me ;  but  you  say  you  are  sorry  and  that  we  are  as  far  apart 
as  the  poles, — so  farewell.  I  hope  you  will  be  happier.  I  am 
heartbroken,"  and  he  contended  that  she  loved  him  still  and  was 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  163 

heartbroken  over  the  gulf  that  separated  them  and  the  desperate 
step  she  was  taking.  Dr.  Brown  never  lost  hope  and  he  was  a 
source  of  great  comfort  to  the  lawyer  who  was  growing  thin  and 
pale  under  the  burden  of  a  sorrow  that  was  far  worse  than  death. 

In  a  few  days  he  took  down  his  sign  and  gave  up  his  busi- 
ness, and  with  the  faithful  Jimmie  who  watched  over  him  with 
all  the  tender  solicitude  of  a  woman,  he  left  New  York  on  a 
secret  mission, — left  to  travel  over  the  Northern  States,  in  quest 
of  the  loved  and  lost. 

The  leading  New  York  papers  startled  society,  by  announc- 
ing that  "Mrs.  Jack  Arlington,  who  has  been  for  several  days  in 
Boston,  has  been  joined  by  her  husband  whose  health  is  very 
much  impaired  of  late,  owing  to  too  close  application  to  busi- 
ness. They  are  to  cross  the  deep  blue  ocean  for  a  visit  through 
foreign  countries,  and  will  probably  be  gone  for  several  months, 
if  not  a  year.  It  will  all  depend  on  the  distinguished  lawyer's 
health.  They  will,  be  greatly  missed  in  social  circles,  as  Mrs. 
Arlington  is  a  decided  favorite  among  the  fashionable  set.  Their 
many  friends  wish  them  a  happy  voyage  and  a  speedy  return  to 
New  York." 

Old  Dr.  Brown  heard  from  them  occasionally,  he  declared, 
but  was  not  at  liberty  to  furnish  an  address,  as  "Jack  wished  to 
rest."  He  would  spin  a  little  yarn  sometimes,  about  their  'ad- 
ventures' in  foreign  lands,  and  then  ask  God  to  forgive  him  if 
it  was  wrong  to  keep  Jack's  secret  at  the  expense  of  truth. 

In  the  meantime,  detectives  were  busily  engaged,  trying  in 
vain  to  trace  the  steps  of  the  lost  one,  but  never  one  clue  could 
they  get  which  led  farther  than  a  certain  street  where  she  had  left 
one  carriage  and  taken  another.  The  detectives  reported  every 
clay  to  Dr.  Brown,  and  he  in  turn  would  communicate  with  Jack, 
who  kept  him  posted  as  to  his  whereabouts.  Day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  month  after  month,  the  search  went  on,  till 
at  last  Jack  gave  up  all  hope.  He  would  not  return  to  New  York, 
yet,  though,  for  he  could  not  bear  old  associations  and  familiar 
scenes,  nor'  the  many  questions  that  solicitous  friends  were  sure 
to  ask. 

Jimmie  kept  his  eyes  open,  and  was  never  satisfied  if  he 
could  not  get  a  glimpse  of  every  veiled  face,  hoping  against  hope 
that  he  might  be  the  one  to  find  a  clue,  and  bring  a  ray  of  hope 
and  comfort  to  the  sad  heart  of  his  beloved  employer. 


164  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

CHAPTER  V 

"Yesterday,  now,  is  a  part  of  forever 

Bound  up  in  a  sheath  which  God  holds  tight, 

With  glad  days  and  sad  days  and  bad  days  which  never 
Shall  visit  us  more  with  their  bloom  and  their  blight, 

Their  fullness  of  sunshine  or  sorrowful  night." 

As  Theo  watched  Jack  from  the  lawn  that  morning,  she 
knew  it  was  for  the  last  time.  Clinging  to  the  lilac  bush  for  sup- 
port she  watched  him  till  lost  to  view.  Then  her  white  lips 
whispered : 

"Gone!  gone,  forever.  Oh,  Jack,  my  once  loving  and  be- 
loved husband,  farewell !  You  love  me  no  longer — you  are  tired 
of  me,  and  I  will  go.  Dear  Jack,  I  wonder  if  you  will  some  times 
think  of  me  tenderly?     Good  bye!" 

When  he  left  her  without  word,  paid  no  heed  to  her  passion- 
ate heart  cry  as  she  sang  in  the  parlor,  her  mind  was  fully  made 
up.  As  his  steps  died  away  in  the  hall  and  she  heard  the  front 
door  open  and  close,  hope  died  and  her  heart  seemed  turned  to 
stone.  She  had  been  abused  and  insulted,  now  she  was  forsaken, 
and  her  passionate,  impulsive  and  sensitive  nature  rose  in  bitter 
rebellion.  She  was  wounded,  grieved  and  angry,  and  as  she 
walked  out  on  the  lawn,  her  blue  silk  morning  dress  trailing 
unheeded  over  the  dewy  grass,  her  head  proudly  erect  and  hands 
clasped  together,  she  was  a  gloriously  beautiful  woman — proud 
and  defiant.  But  when  Jack  was  lost  to  view  and  she  realized 
that  she  should  never  see  him  again,  love  conquered  pride,  and 
that  agonized  whisper,  "good  bye,"  told  how  terrible  was  the 
struggle. 

Slowly  retracing  her  steps  to  the  house,  she  went  to  her 
room  and  took  herself  in  hand.  Going  to  a  full  length  mirror, 
she  gazed  in  consternation  on  the  pale  face  reflected  there. 
Presently  she  stamped  her  foot  and  cried  out  scornfully,  angrily : 
"For  shame,  Theodosia  Arlington! — no,  I  guess  you  are  The- 
odosia  Grey  again,  after  this.  I  don't  know  about  that  yet.  But 
don't  you  dare  lose  your  color  or  your  senses  over  the  perfidy 
of  any  man,  do  you  hear?  I'll  simply  hate  you  beyond  endurance 
if  you  give  way  to  a  silly,  sickening,  sentimentality,  and  let  pride 
take  a  back  seat.  I  don't  know  what  you  are  going  to  do  but  it 
will  be  best  for  you  to  learn  something,  something  that  will  keep 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  165 

your  mind  and  energies  occupied.  You  are  young,  healthy  and 
strong,  and  can  work  if  you  wish  to.  Jack  Arlington  is  nothing 
to  you — cares  nothing  for  you;  keep  that  in  mind  eternally  if 
you  cannot  altogether  forget  his  existence.  He  has  wounded 
and  insulted  you  beyond  pardon — remember  that  when  you  think 
of  him.  You  have  ruined  his  life,  too,  I  guess,  but  you  did  not 
seek  him  out  and  woo  him  with  honeyed  words  as  he  did  you, 
so  don't  worry.  You  won't  need  to  take  all  your  money  as  you 
are  going  to  find  work,  so  you  can  leave  some  to  the  man  who  is 
so  sorry  he  married  you,  as  a  sort  of  reparatiton  for  the  uninten- 
tional wrong  you  did  him  when  you  said  'yes.'  Now  get  about 
your  business,  and  break  down  if  you  dare!"  Pride  had  come 
to  the  rescue,  and  her  color  had  returned. 

As  has  been  stated  she  arranged  for  Jack  to  get  all  her 
money  except  five  thousand  dollars,  which  she  carefully  sewed  in 
her  underwear  placing  enough  in  her  purse  for  immediate  needs ; 
but  she  never  once  thought  of  her  real  estate  property  which 
brought  in  a  large  yearly  income. 

After  making  all  her  arrangements  she  had  a  short  confer- 
ence with  her  housekeeper,  and  asked  that  she  call  Jack's  atten- 
tion to  the  note  she  had  left  on  his  desk. 

Theo  had  laid  no  plans.  She  had  no  idea  which  train  she 
would  take  or  in  what  direction  she  would  go, — her  one  and  only 
mature  idea  being  to  get  away  from  Jack,  securely  hide  herself 
from  all  who  had  ever  known  her,  and  to  forget  the  past;  to 
begin  life  over  again  in  some  far  distant  and  isolated  place, 
where  she  would  not  be  thrown  continually  into  society.  Society ! 
ah,  was  she  beginning  to  hate  it  as  Jack  did?  She  wondered. 
If  so,  they  could  be  happy  yet — but  no,  love  was  dead  and  could 
never  be  resurrected.  She  was  an  unloved  wife — did  not  even 
have  her  husband's  respect,  she  thought.  Had  she  merited  such 
bitter  reproach  from  him?  The  memory  of  past  scenes  rose  be- 
fore her  mental  vision,  and  the  red  blood  rushed  in  a  guilty  tor- 
rent over  her  face;  she  remembered  a  too  passionate  clasp  of 
hands,  half  unconscious  embraces,  expressive  eyes  and  impas- 
sioned tones  of  ardent  admirers  during  the  mazy  waltz. 

Had  she  indeed  been  on  the  verge  of  an  awful  precipice  and 
in  clanger  of  toppling  over  into  a  yawning  chasm  to  be  wrecked  on 
the  treacherous  rocks  of  temptation  and  vanity?  The  thought 
startled  her  at  first.     Then  laughing  recklessly  she  said:     "No, 


166  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

I've  not  been  in  the  least  danger  of  falling.  I  can  take  care  of 
myself.  I've  done  no  wrong  and  never  shall  be  false  to  my  mar- 
riage vows ;  but  I  won't  be  a  living  corpse — I  won't  die  till  I  have 
to,  for  death  is  the  end  of  everything,  I  am  sure.  If  there  really 
were  such  places  as  heaven  and  hell,  and  such  a  thing  as  eternity, 
and  if  people  truly  believed  it,  there  would  be  a  mighty  stirring 
time  and  a  big  change  in  this  old  universe.  But  it  is  all  nonsense 
and  I  won't  think  of  it.  Life  is  what  we  make  it — either  heaven 
or  hell — and  death  is  the  end."  And  she  resolutely  banished  the 
subject  from  her  mind. 

She  did  not  fully  realize  until  the  last  how  it  would  wrench 
and  tear  her  heart  to  leave  the  pretty  home  nest  where  for  a 
time  she  had  been  so  supremely  happy  as  Jack's  wife.  She 
wandered  from  room  to  room,  touching  with  reverent  hands  the 
different  articles  of  furniture  and  daintj^  furnishings,  wonder- 
ing what  Jack  would  do  witth  everything.  Perhaps  he  would 
get  a  divorce  and  marry  Cora  Sullivan,  who  was  now  a  widow. 
The  thought  made  her  shudder,  though  in  her  inmost  soul  she 
knew  he  would  never  marry  again.  But  what  if  he  did?  Who 
cared?  It  could  make  no  difference  to  her.  Then  she  immedi- 
ately did  something  that  stamped  the  assertion  as  a  libel. 

She  was  ready  to  go;  her  hat  and  veil  had  already  been 
fastened ;  she  paused  for  a  moment  in  the  hall  and  looked  around ; 
there  were  no  servants  in  sight,  so,  snatching  a  pair  of  Jack's 
gloves  from  a  small  stand  and  kissing  them  passionately,  she 
carefully  placed  them  in  her  bosom.  Then  running  into  the 
parlor,  she  opened  a  lovely  pearl  and  plush  covered  album,  drew 
out  one  of  Jack's  pictures  and  placed  that,  too,  over  her  heart, 
feeling  guilty  as  any  thief.  Bitter  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes,  but 
were  dried  with  angry  vehemence.  Her  heart  beat  suffocatingly, 
but  with  iron  will  she  mastered  the  pain,  and  with  one  more 
hungry  look  around,  she  drew  her  veil  down  carefully  and  with 
dignity  and  haughty  bearing  walked  out  on  the  broad  piazza, 
followed  by  the  cab  man  who  had  just  entered  for  her  valise, 
and  there  was  Jimmie  with  Jack's  peace  offering. 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that. she  controlled  her  emotions 
and  walked  to  her  carriage. 

"Where  to  ma'am?"  inquired  the  man,  hearing  no  order' 
given.  Theo  had  been  thinking  rapidly.  She  must  not  go 
straight  to  the  depot,  for  she  must  manage  to  outwit  Jimmie; 
guilty  conscience  already  declared  that  he  was  suspicious. 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  167 

She  must  cover  her  tracks  so  no  one  could  trace  her.  "Drive 
to  .Bellas,  Hess  &  Co.,  Broadway,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

When  she  arrived  at  the  place  indicated,  she  dismissed  the 
man,  saying  it  would  be  some  time  before  she  was  ready  to  re- 
turn. As  he  carried  her  valise  to  the  door  of  the  big  clothing 
establishment,  Theo  spoke  in  a  low  tone  to  another  cab  man : 

"Double  pay  if  you  wait  here  for  me  five  minutes." 

"All  right,  Miss,"  touching  his  hat  politely. 

She  changed  carriages  three  or  four  times  before  reaching 
the  depot  and  believed  that  she  had  succeessfully  covered  her 
tracks  from  any  who  were  disposed  to  make  inquiries 

Finding  that  the  next  train  out  was  going  South,  she  pur- 
chased a  ticket  to  Washington  and  was  soon  speeding  on  her 
journey — where?  She  did  not  know — she  did  not  care.  All 
places  were  alike  to  her  now — any  place  where  she  could  hide  in 
safety  was  a  welcome  retreat.  She  reached  Washington  after 
traveling  nearly  all  night,  and  having  had  only  a  few  moments 
sleep  the  past  forty-eight  hours,  she  felt  compelled  for  health's 
sake  to  stop  over  and  take  a  few  hours  rest. 

Going  to  a  fashionable  hotel,  she  had  an  early  breakfast  and 
went  to  her  room ;  and  there  in  the  quiet  solitude  of  her  chamber, 
she  untied  the  ribbons  to  look  at  Jack's  flowers.  Their  sweet 
fragrance  had  oppressed  her  during  the  whole  journey,  but  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  look  on  them  till  alone.  Now  with  pale 
face,  compressed  lips  and  trembling  hands,  she  tenderly  lifted 
the  lovely  carnations  from  the  damp,  moss-lined  box,  still  delight- 
fully fresh  and  fragrant.  Her  breath  came  in  quick  dry  sobs 
and  she  pressed  one  hand  to  her  heart  as  she  spied  the  little  three- 
cornered  note  clinging  lovingly  to  the  flowers.  Jack  had  actually 
written !  With  a  great  lump  in  her  throat  which  seemed  about 
to  choke  her  into  suffocation,  she  read  and  re-read  Jack's  penitent 
plea  for  pardon  and  restoration  to  favor.  Over  and  over  again 
she  read  the  touching  lines  till  every  word  seemed  burned  into 
ner  brain,  men  with  a  cry  tnat  seemed  the  wail  of  a  soul 
eternally  damned,  she  fell  half  conscious  across  her  bed,  with  the 
flowers  and. note  crushed  against  her  breaking  heart.  Oh,  if  she 
could  but  die!  Oh,  if  merciful  unconsciousness  would  but  come 
to  her  aid !  But  no ;  to  be  keenly  alive  and  painfully  conscious 
of  the  hell  she  had  made  for  herself  was  to  be  her  doom.  In 
bitterest  agony  she  cried  out : 


168  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"Too  late,  too  late !  Oh  God !  what  have  I  done,  what  have  I 
done?  Oh,  to  be  safe  at  home  with  dear,  darling  Jack  as  in  the 
happy  past!  Poor  boy,  how  he  must  have  suffered  to  have 
humbled  himself  like  this — to  have  written  so  touchingly.  But, 
oh,  God!  it's  too  late,  too  late!  He  could  never  forgive  me  this 
desperate  step,  even  if  I  could  forgive  his  insults — which  I  can't," 
she  cried  desperately.  Words  failed,  but  her  brain  kept  busy. 
Perhaps  she  was  even  now  the  subject  of  a  big  New  York 
'  scandal,  and  Jack's  name  disgraced.  She  could  easily  imagine 
how  gossiping  tongues  would  wag,  and  how  "society"  would 
enjoy  dissecting  her  character.  She  could  not  cry,  but  moaned 
pitifully  in  her  anguish,  wringing  her  trembling  hands  till  the 
stones  in  her  costly  rings  almost  cut  the  dainty  fingers. 

She  took  Jack's  gloves  and  tried  to  make  them  stand  out  as 
if  filled  with  his  hands,  then  she  tenderly  pressed  her  face  upon 
them,  closed  her  eyes  and  tried  to  imagine  that  Jack  was  with 
her,  and  the  past  few  hours  only  a  hideous  dream.  Oh,  it  was 
pitiful,  but  too  late !  She  had  taken  this  desperate  step  and  must 
go  on  to  the  bitter  end.    And  what  was  that  to  be? 

After  spending  the  whole  day  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  sleep, 
Theo  decided  to  spend  the  night.  She  slept  towards  morning, 
and  far  up  into  the  day,  but  arose  with  a  wretched  headache,  and 
a  feeling  of  terrible  oppresion.  She  had  refreshments  brought 
to  her  room  and  in  the  afternoon,  finding  that  she  could  no  longer 
bear  her  own  company,  she  made  her  way  to  the  ladies'  parlor 
and  soon  made  friends  with  a  pretty  little  girl  of  four  summers, 
who  was  there  with  her  mother  from  Lynchburg,  Va.  Little 
Ella  Evans  was  a  most  interesting  child  and  Theo  half  uncon- 
scionsly  wondered  if  a  little  child  of  her  own  would  have  effected 
her  life — and  Jack's.  Ella  presently  brought  her  mother  to  "see 
the  pretty  lady"  and  gave  them  a  quaint  introduction: 

"Miss  Feeo  Gway,  this  is  my  muvver,  this  is  Miss  Feeo 
Gway.  I  hope  you'll  be  dood  friends,  cause  I  love  you  bofe, 
amen."  The  childs  mother  smiled  fondly  on  her  little  e:irl,  then 
turning  with  simple  grace  and  dignity  to  Theo,  she  offered  her 
hand,  saying  kindly:  "Mrs.  Annie  Evans,  is  my  name,  Miss 
Gray,"  with  a  hurried  glance  over  the  neat  black-robed  figure 
before  her,  and  wondering  that  one  so  young  and  lovely  should 
be  so  sad. 

"Mrs.  Gray,"  corrected  Theo,  as  she  took  the  proffered 
hand,  and  looked  into  the  lady's  bright  face,  her.  own  very  pale. 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  169 

"Dear  me,  excuse  me,  but  you  look  so  young  to  be  married. 
And  you  have  recently  lost  some  dear  one?"  gently  touching  the 
girl's  black  dress.  The  tears  welled  up  into  Theo's  dark  eyes. 
The  voice  was  so  kind  and  sympathetic,  she  could  not  resent  the 
familiar  speech.  Lost  a  loved  one!  Ah,  had  she  not  lost  the 
dearest  and  most  loved  ?    She  answered : 

"Yes,  oh,  yes — my  husband,"  almost  choking  with  emo- 
ttion. 

"Oh,  do  forgive  me — I  would  not  have  wounded  you  thus 
for  the  world,"  cried  Mrs.  Evans  in  distress,  clasping  Theo's 
hand  in  both  her  own.  "It  is  my  misfortune  to  have  a  dreadfully 
unruly  tongue,  and  I  am  always  blundering  and  hurting  some 
one,  and  oh,  so  unintentionally.  And  you  are  all  alone?  Come 
and  sit  down/'  leading  Theo  to  a  wide  comfortable  settee  away 
from  the  chattering  crowd. 

"All  alone,  Mrs.  Evans, — here  and  everywhere,  so  far  as 
relatives  are  concerned.  I  am  an  orphan,  as  well  as  a  widow. 
And  oh,  you  don't  know  how  thankful  I  am  for  the  pleasure  and 
comfort  of  having  some  one  to  talk  with,"  lifting  Ella  to  a  seat 
between  them. 

"You  poor  child!  And  where  are  you  going? — if  I  may  ask 
without  being  rude?"  Theo  blushed  painfully.  She  had  not  yet 
decided,  but  spoke  up  bravely : 

"I  am  going  to  visit  in  the  Carolinas — shall  travel  around  a 
good  bit,  I  think,  as  I  am  fond  of  sight  seeing — then  I  shall  settle 
down  to  work,  if  I  can  find  employment." 

"What  is  your  work? — but  I  fear  you  will  think  me  rude." 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all.  Why,  I  have  never  done  a  moments 
work  in  my  life.  I  don't  know  what  I  can  do — but  I  am  healthy 
and  strong,  and  am  sure  I  can  learn  almost  anything  that  a 
woman  may  do.  The  only  thing  I  dread  is  seeking  a  place — and 
I  don't  suppose  an  easy  position  will  walk  up  and  present  itself," 
smiled  Theo.  Mrs."  Evans  looked  at  her  earnestly  and  thought- 
fully.    Presently  she  said : 

"I.  too,  am  a  widow,  and  support  my  mother,  two  children 
and  myself.  Shall  I  tell  you  about  my  work?  I,  too,  have  seen 
the  day  that  I  never  thought  of  work,  but  everything  was  lost 
when  my  dear  husband  died,  and  I  learned  to  work  as  well  as 
pray." 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  hear  how  you  have 


170  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

managed.    Providence,  if  there  is  such  a  thing,  must  have  led  me 
to  you." 

Mrs.  Evans  smiled  as  she  replied : 

"Well,  prepare  yourself  for  a  shock,  for  I  am  sure  you  have 
been  taught  to  despise  my  occupation  and  all  who  work  at  it.  I 
was  of  the  same  opinion  once,  but  necessity  knows  no  law,  and 
the  lesson  has  been  beneficial,  for  I  learned  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  real  and  the  false.  I  assure  you  I  tried  everything 
else  first,  which  held  out  hopes  of  an  honest  living,  but  was 
finally  driven  by  desperation  into  a — be  prepared  for  the 
shock" — laughingly — "cotton  mill!"  Theo  opened  her  eyes  in 
surprise : 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  cotton  mills — never  saw 
one  in  my  life.  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  a  little  prejudiced  against 
them  from  what  I  have  read.  However  I  will  freely  confess  that 
my  prejudices  will  be  easily  removed,  if  you  are  a  cotton  mill 
woman.  I  never  imagined  they  would  be — would  be — at  all  de- 
sirable acquaintances,"  she  stammered. 

"Of  course  dear,  there  are  people  employed  in  mills — as  in 
every  other  occupation — who  are  not  at  all  nice  or  desirable 
acquaintances.  But  it  is  unfair  to  judge  the  whole  by  tthe  few. 
The  majority  of  mill  people  these  days  have  clean  lives  and  spot- 
less characters,  and  many  of  them  are  well  educated  and  refined. 
I  have  learned  this  by  actual  experience.  Marie  Van  Vorst  and 
other  sensational  writers  from  the  North  have  cruelly  slandered 
and  misrepresented  Southern  mill  people.  One  who  has  read 
'The  Women  Who  Toil,'  would  feel  justified  in  believing  that  mill 
people  are  the  very  scum  of  the  earth.  But  such  is  not  the  case 
and  I  wish  I  could  prove  it  to  you,  as  you  are  a  prejudiced  Yankee 
from  Yankeydom,"  laughingly. 

"I  am  sure  since  seeing  you  I  should  be  easily  convinced. 
But  please  tell  me  more  about  your  work."  Theo  was  deeply  in- 
terested. 

"Well,  I  believe  wages  is  generally  the  first  and  greatest  con- 
sideration. I  make  about  twelve  dollars  per  week,  on  an  average. 
I  don't  have  to  mix  with  anyone,  or  have  anything  to  do  with 
any  one  unless  I  wish.  What  I  mean  is  this :  a  shop  girl  is  com- 
pelled to  wait  on  just  any  one,  black  or  white,  red  or  brown,  and 
be  as  sweet  as  a  peach  to  all,  when  half  the  time  she  feels  dread- 
fully humiliated  and  inclined  to  tears.     Now,  it  is  not  that  way 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  171 

in  a  cotton  mill.  Every  one  has  his  or  her  own  machines  to 
attend  to, — his  or  her  own  separate  work  to  do,  and  each  stays  in 
his  or  her  place ;  personality  and  individuality  are  safe.  I  have 
tried  many  things  and  like  weaving  best  of  all." 

"Shop  girls  do  not  make  so  much  either,  do  they?" 

"No  indeed.  And  do  you  know,  some  of  them  actually  'look 
down  on'  mill  girls  who  are  just  as  nicely  dressed,  and  better 
mannered.  Can  you  think  of  anything  more  ridiculous?  Is  it 
not  just  as  honorable  to  stand  between  the  looms  and  weave  the 
cloth,  as  it  is  to  stand  behind  the  counter  and  measure  it  out  to 
every  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  who  comes  along?  But  this  absurd 
prejudice  is  fast  giving  way  to  common  sense  and  justice,  and 
in  many  places  mill  people  who  are  deserving,  associate  with  the 
very  best  people,  and  are  welcome  in  social  circles  where  true 
worth  is  recognized." 

"Let's  take  her  home  wif  us,  muvver?"  chimed  in  little  Ella. 

"The  very  thing;  yes,  go  with  us  if  you  will,  and  I  can  show 
you  more  than  I  can  tell  you  about  my  work,"  said  Mrs.  Evans 
eagerly. 

"I  could — I'd  be  glad  to  stop  with"  you  a  day  or  two,  if  you 
are  sure  you  would  like  me  to,  and  it  will  not  inconvenience  you 
in  any  way,"  returned  Theo  gratefully.  She  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  being  alone,  and  looked  a  little  doubtfully  and  very 
wistfully  into  the  face  of  her  new  found  friend,  inwardly  aston- 
ished at  the  wonderful  progress  they  had  made  toward  getting 
acquainted. 

CHAPTER  VI 

"The  idea — why,  nothing  ever  inconveniences  me!  I'm  posi- 
tively sure  I  shall  not  be  subjected  to  such  distress  on  your 
account — you  little  slow-to-comprehend-and-believe.  Now,  I've 
fallen  in  love  with  you  on  the  spot  and  have  thrown  formalities 
and  other  dignities  to  the  winds,  and  if  you  don't  come  with  me 
and, — well,  I'll  be  disappointed." 

"Everybody  minds  my  muvver,  an'  'ou  '11  have  to  do  it  too," 
declared  Ella,  kissing  Theo's  hand  affectionately. 

"I  will  be  delighted,  since  I  am  sure  that  you  really  wish 
me  to." 

"Now  that's  right.  I  like  your  honest  confession  that  you 
at  first  doubting  my  sincereity,  though!"  laughed  Mrs.  Evans, 


172  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"And  do  you  feel  sufficiently  rested  to  go  tonight  as  I  intended? 
If  not  I  will  wait  until  tomorrow,"  kindly. 

"Oh,  not  for  worlds  would  I  have  you  change  your  plans  on 
my  account.  I  shall  be  all  right,  now  that  I  am  no  longer  alone. 
It's  simply  awful  to  have  no  one  to  talk  with, — no  company  ex- 
cept ones  own  thoughts — in  a  crowd,  yet  all  alone."  Theo  shud- 
dered, stooping  to  kiss  little  Ella. 

Mrs.  Evans  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  beautiful  girl,  and 
a  shade  of  anxiety  crept  for  a  moment  over  her  face.  Had  she 
been  too  fast,  she  wondered?  She  knew  absolutely  nothing  con- 
cerning this  fair  sad  girl;  why  was  she  so  ready  to  believe  in 
and  trust  her?  But  then,  she  had  learned  by  experience  that 
she  could  always  safely  stick  to  her  first  impressions — she  never 
had  been  fooled — and  little  Ella's  intuition  was  simply  perfect. 

Theo's  thoughts  were  something  of  the  same,  and  looking  up 
suddenly  with  Ella's  arms  twined  around  her  neck,  she  smiled 
through  unshed  tears : 

"It  is  strange,  isn't  it — the  way  we  have  progressed.  I 
never  knew  anything  like  it  before.  One  would  think  we  were 
old  friends." 

"Well,  it  might  be  'strange  for  some  people — but  for  me — 
my  friends  would  tell  you  that  it  is  just  like  me,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Evans  "And  I  have  learned  that  I  may  safely  love  and  trust 
all  who  win  the  confidence  of  Ella." 

"But  it  is  strange  to  me,  and  so  refreshing  to  meet  one 
so  unaffected,  so  genuinely  kind  and  sympathetic,  so  delightfully 
informal.  It  is  one  of  the  sweetest  little  experiences  of  my 
life,"  continued  Theo,  warmly. 

"I  am  a  true  Southerner,"  returned  Mrs.  Evans,  proudly, 
with  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eyes  and  a  playful  drawing  up  of 
her  shoulders,  as  if  that  assertion  made  any  other  explanation 
unnecessary.     Then  earnestly: 

"Kind  thoughts,  kind  words,  kind  looks,  kind  acts  and  warm, 
hand  shakes — these  are  a  secondary  means  of  grace  when  people 
are  in  trouble  and  fighting  unseen  battles,  says  Dr.  John  Hall. 
Anyhow,  I  know  they  are  mighty  cheap  and  I  never  expect  to 
be  stingy  in  that  line,"  and  her  face  glowed  with  a  light  that 
was  indeed  beautiful,  and  made  Theo  almost  hold  her  breath 
in  awe,  while  into  her  heart  came  a  strong  inexpressable 
longing — an  infinite  craving  for  an  infinite  stilling,  and  a  con- 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  173 

sciousness  of  unfathomed  soul-depths,  restless,  vast  and  broad. 

Mrs.  Evans  was  little  above  medium  height  and  rather 
inclined  to  stoutness,  but  in  her  neat  and  inexpensive  dark  linen 
coat  suit  which  fitted  her  to  perfection,  one  would  have  called 
her  figure  perfect  in  its  graceful  outlines.  Her  eyes  were  an 
honest  blue  and  sparkled  with  good  humor,  her  hair  almost  a 
pure  gold,  and  her  fair  cheeks  glowed  with  the  bloom  of  good 
health  and  sweet  temper.  She  seemed  altogether  at  peace  with 
herself  and  all  the  world  and  in  perfect  harmony  with  life  as  she 
found  it. 

As  they  were  about  to  board  the  train  for  Lynchburg,  Theo 
caught  sight  of  a  man  who  had  just  arrived,  and  with  a  smoth- 
ered exclamation  of  dismay  she  drew  her  veil  down  more 
securely  and  made  almost  frantic  haste  to  get  inside  the  train. 
Soon  as  they  were  seated,  Theo  peered  cautionsly  from  the 
window,  and  was  relieved  to  see  Clarence  DuBose  enter  a 
carriage  and  drive  away.  He  had  not  seen  or  recognized  her 
she  was  sure,  but  oh,  what  a  narrow  escape!  Why  was  he 
there?  Had  he  dared  to  follow  her?  And  her  cheeks  blazed 
with  indignation.  For  a  few  moments  she  was  almost  overcome 
with  a  terrible  presentment  of  coming  evil,  and  sank  back  in 
her  seat  pale  and  trembling.  She  spoke  in  a  low  voice  to  Mrs. 
Evans : 

"Forgive  me — I  know  you  think  I  am  acting  like  a  crazy 
thing — but  I  saw  a  gentleman  out  there  whose  attentions  are 
extremely  distasteful  to  me — one  who  I  had  hoped  never  to  see 
again.  I  was  a  little  afraid  at  first  that  he  had  followed  me. 
Have  you  ever  met  a  man  whom  you  did  not  trust  and  almost 
loathed  when  he  was  out  of  sight,  and  yet  when  in  his  presence 
felt  that  he  possessed  magnetic  influence?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  I  ever  have,"  was  the  thoughtful  reply. 
"But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing — he'd  better  let  you  alone  while 
you  are  in  my  care,"  and  Mrs.  Evans  looked  thoroughly  com- 
petent to  protect  her  charge. 

"Am  sure  I  was  foolishly  alarmed.  He  is  in  the  insurance 
business  and  probably  had  work  to  do  here.  He  could  not 
possibly  know  that  I  had  left  New  York,"  returned  Theo,  bravely 
trying  to  banish  her  fears  as  the  train  gave  the  signal  to  start, 
and  was  soon  in  motion. 

"Now  dear,  I  will  take  this  empty  seat  just  in  front  of  us, 


174  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

and  then  you  can  have  room  to  curl  up  and  take  a  nap.  You 
look  almost  worn  out.  A  nice  little  snooze  will  refresh  you  lots. 
Try  it,"  advised  Mrs.  Evans,  as  she  changed  her  seat  and  placed 
a  pillow  for  Theo,  who  gratefully  accepted  it  and  leaned  back 
wearily,  closing  her  eyes.  Sleep!  ah,  could  she  ever  sleep  again? 
The  air  seemed  stifling  and  her  heart  was  heavy  and  oppressed. 
Oh,  how  she  longed  to  find  some  quiet  restful  spot,  where  she 
would  feel  at  ease  and  be  content — where  she  would  no  longer 
be  driven  desperate  by  that  restless,  unsatisfied  and  inexpres- 
sable  longing  for  something  beyond  reach.  Was  she  always 
to  have  that  terrible  pain  at  her  heart,  she  wondered?  Was  she 
to  go  her  whole  life  with  that  awful  craving,  hungering  and 
thirsting  for  she  knew  not  what?  Jack's  glove  and  picture 
still  nestled  on  her  heart  and  the  box  of  carnations  was  carried 
carefully  in  her  hands,  with  the  little,  love  note  hidden  inside. 
She  would  keep  these  treasures  as  sacred  memories  of  the  past 
— oh,  inconsistency! — the  past  which  she  wished  to  forget. 

At  last,  utterly  exhausted,  Theo  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep 
and  was  awakened  only  when  Mrs.  Evans  gently  stroked  her 
her  hair  and  informed  her  that  the  next  stop  would  be  Lynch- 
burg. They  soon  reached  the  depot  and  procuring  a  carriage, 
Mrs.  Evans  gave  her  address  to  the  driver,  and  they  went 
spinning  through  the  deserted  but  beautifully  lighted  streets  of 
the  city,  soon  arriving  at  a  tiny  four-roomed  cottage  which 
seemed  to  Theo  a  very  doll  house.  There  were  rows  and  rows 
of  houses  just  like  this  one,  and  Theo  wondered  how  her  friend 
could  be  sure  she  had  reached  the  right  place. 

A  deep  silvery  toned  clock  struck  the  hour  of  three,  as  the 
cabman  deposited  their  valises  on  the  tiny  porch,  and  a  hurried 
movement  inside  told  them  that  their  presence  was  known. 

"It  is  I,  mother,  open  the  door,"  called  Mrs.  Evans,  as  she 
gently  knocked  at  the  door,  carrying  the  sleeping  Ella  in  her 
arms. 

A  sweet-faced,  gray-haired  old  lady,  with  a  night  cap  on  her 
head  and  wearing  a  snowy  grown,  held  a  lamp  above  her  head 
and  cackled  merrily  as  they  walked  in.  She  welcomed  them 
cordially,  holding  Theo's  hand  for  a  full  minute  and  looking 
earnestly  into  the  pale  face  and  sorrowful  eyes. 

''Am  so  glad  to  have  you  with  us  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady, 
kissing  her  and  releasing  her  reluctantly.  "But  I'm  going  to 
drive  you  right  off  to  bed  and  wait  till  daytime  to  get  acquainted. 


f'ROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  175 

I  do  hope  you  will  enjoy  yourself  with  us  in  our  humble  home." 
Then  to  her  daughter :  "Annie,  let  me  have  Ella.  I'll  undress 
and  put  her  to  bed.  Poor  child — she's  plum  tuckered  out;  has 
she  been  well,  Annie?" 

"Dear  me,  mother,  did  you  ever  know  that  child  to  be  any- 
thing else?  I  should  think  she  has  been  well,  and  she  certainly 
has  enjoyed  the  trip.  But  how  is  my  little  man?"  walking  over 
to  a  little  white  cot  and  bending  over  a  curly  headed  boy  of 
seven. 

"He  has  been  spry  as  a  cricket,  but  has  grieved  some  for 
you  and  his  little  sister.  I've  been  at  my  wits  end  to  keep  him 
amused  while  not  in  school,"  replied  the  little  old  lady,  merrily. 

"Fse  goin'  to  s'eep  wif  Miss  Feeo,"  declared  Ella,  waking  up 
and  comprehending  that  she  was  at  home  and  being  put  to  bed. 

"No,  no,  little  Ella  must  sleep  with  grandma — poor  grandma 
has  been  so  lonely  without  her  pet,"  soothed  the  woman,  as  Mrs. 
Evans  led  Theo  to  the  "front"  room,  dragging  her  friend's  valise 
after  her. 

"Now,  dear,  this  is  not  a  Fifth  Avenue  bed  room,  but  it  is 
neat  and  clean  and  "comfy,"  and  I  hope  you  will  look  on  it  as  your 
own  while  with  us." 

Mrs.  Evans  did  not  speak  apologetically,  but  in  a  manner 
which  plainly  said,  "I  wouldn't  exchange  this  room  for  anything 
on  Fifth  Avenue!" 

In  all  her  life,  Theo  had  never  seen  anything  like  this  which 
was  evidently  used  for  more  than  a  mere  bed  room.  Besides  a 
bed,  large  dresser  and  washstand,  there  was  a  nice  organ,  a 
wide  comfortable  sofa,  some  parlors  chairs  and  comfortably 
cushioned  rockers,  a  center  table  with  lovely  drawn-work  cover 
and  best  of  all  a  neat  hanging  book  case  filled  with  standard 
works.  Enlarged  portraits  of  friends  and  relatives  and  a  few 
other  good  pictures  adorned  the  tastefully  papered  walls,  and  a 
nice  matting  with  several  pretty  rugs  covered  the  floor.  There 
were  vases  of  lovely  flowers  on  the  mantle,  organ  and  center  table, 
and  the  whole  pervaded  by  such  a  comfortable,  peaceful,  quiet 
atmosphere,  that  Theo  drew  a  deep  sigh,  again  feeling  that  she 
was  lacking  in  something,  again  experiencing  that  hungry  long- 
ing for  she  knew  not  what,  while  in  the  secret  depths  of  her 
heart  wailed  a  vain  regret — "Oh,  if  Jack  and  I  had  lived  like  this, 
we  might  have  been  happy!"  she  exclaimed  aloud,  in  genuine 
admiration  and  astonishment: 


176  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"Oh,  what  a  lovely  little  nest!  How  tempting  that  great 
snow  white  bed  looks.  How  restful  everything  seems.''  Then 
turning  to  her  friend: 

"How  can  I  ever  thank  you  for  your  sweet  helpful  friend- 
ship?" and  there  were  tears  in  the  lovely  eyes,  making  her  far 
more  beautiful. 

"My  dear,  Mrs.  Gray,  if  I  have  been  a  source  of  help  or 
comfort  to  you,  I  am  more  than  repaid.  You  certainly  are  not 
enjoying  it  more  than  I,"  smiling  into  the  tear  dimmed  eyes.  "It 
is  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  have  you  here,  and  if  you  can  enjoy 
the  time  you  stay  with  us  we  will  be  more  than  glad.  Now,  you 
spoke  of  that  'snow  white  bed.'  I  must  tell  you  that  the  counter- 
pane was  woven  on  an  old-fashioned  hand  loom,  by  my  mother 
when  she  was  a  young  girl.  Examine  it  at  your  leisure,  and  if 
you  think  it  worthy,  give  mother  a  word  of  praise  for  it,  and 
see  how  pleased  she  will  be.  And  now  I  will  leave  you,  hoping 
that  you  will  sleep  so  sweetly  that  you  won't  wake  till  ten  o'clock. 
Good  night,  and  pleasant  dreams." 

When  Theo  opened  here  eyes  that  beautiful  Friday  morn- 
ing, she  heard  the  chirp  of  birds  in  the  honeysuckles  around  the 
porch  and  windows,  and  a  sigh  that  was  half  pleasure,  half  pain 
escaped  her  lips.  Presently  the  silvery  toned  clock  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room  chimed  the  hour  of  ten,  and  she  sprang  from  the  bed 
in  amazement.  How  soundly  she  had  slept,  how  rested  she  felt. 
And  hungry — my,  my !  She  wondered  what  they  would  give  her 
for  breakfast,  and  told  herself  that  she  would  eat  anything  they 
had,  and  try  and  be  content.  It  wasn't  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  these  working  people  fared  sumptiousuly,  though  they  did 
look  robust  and  healthy. 

On  finding  that  she  was  up,  little  Ella  was  at  last  allowed 
access  to  her  room,  and  was  told  to  bring  the  lady  to  breakfast 
when  she  was  ready. 

That  breakfast  table  was  another  surprise  for  Theo.  The 
cloth  was  snowy  linen  with  pretty  napkins  to  match  and  there 
was  a  lovely  centerpiece  of  drawn  work  on  which  was  a  glass 
bowl  of  flowers  beautifully  arranged.  The  breakfast  was  just 
an  ordinary  mill  village  meal — light  bread  and  breakfast  rolls, 
rice,  golden  butter,  ham,  eggs  on  toast,  home  made  preserves  and 
jelly,  with  coffee  and  rich  cream.  Everything  was  on  the  table 
and  ready  to  eat  in  true  old-fashioned  style,  and  Theo  could  not 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  177 

restrain  an  expression  of  delight  as  she  sat  down.  Mrs.  Brown, 
the  old-fashioned  mother,  asked  a  blessing,  which  was  a  further 
surprise  to  our  heroine,  having  never  heard  anything  of  the  kind 
from  one  of  her  sex. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Theo  was  not  scant  in  her  praises 
of  that  really  wonderful  counterpane,  or  of  the  breakfast  which 
was  the  best  in  every  respect  that  she  had  ever  eaten.  '  Mrs. 
Brown  had  already  milked  the  cow,  much  to  Theo's  regret,  for 
she  was  anxious  to  get  acquainted  with  that  member  of  the  fam- 
ily and  to  see  that  wonderful  operation  of  "extracting"  milk, 
something  she  had  read  about  and  heard  of,  but  had  never  seen. 
She  saw  the  performance  that  afternoon,  and  laughingly  tried 
to  help,  though  deathly  afraid.  Mrs.  Evans  carried  her  guest  to 
several  places  of  interest,  but  nothing  so  appealed  to  Theo  as  the 
busy  hum  of  the  mill  machinery,  which  she  declared  seemed 
human.  She  was  to  leave  on  Sunday  afternoon,  and  with  her 
friend  was  waiting  at  the  depot  for  a  belated  train,  when  a  hand- 
somely dressed  and  distinguished  looking  gentleman  came  toward 
them  hat  in  hand,  bowing  and  smiling: 

"How  glad  I  am  :o  meet  you  here,  Mrs.  Arlington."  Theo 
went  deathly  white  and  Mrs.  Evans  knew  that  this  was  the  ob- 
jectionable suitor,  and  that  Theo  was  traveling  under  an 
assumed  name. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

"Once  to  every  man  and  nation  comes  the  moment  to  decide 
.  In  the  strife  of  truth  with  falsehood  for  the  good  or  evil  side ; 
Some  great  cause,  God's  new  Messiah  offering  each  the  bloom  or 
blight, 
Puts  the  goats  upon  the  left  hand,  and  the  sheep  upon  the 
right. 
And  the  choice  goes  by  forever,  'twixt  that  darkness  and  that 
light." 

Theo  gazed  as  if  fascinated,  toward  the  advancing  man,  and 
her  little  white  hand  went  out  as  if  unconsciously  to  meet  his 
extended  one.  With  a  mighty  effort  she  conquered  the  faintness 
which  was  creeping  over  her,  and  smiled  as  she  spoke : 

"It  is  always  the  unexpected  that  happens.  Who  would 
have  thought  of  seeing  you  away  down  here?"    Mrs.  Evans'  face 


ITS  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

was  a  study.  The  indignant  blood  surged  for  a  moment  over 
her  fair  face.  She  felt  that  she  had  been  cruelly  deceived  and 
shamefully  treated,  and  drawing  herself  up  proudly,  she  walked 
with  quiet  dignity  toward  the  door,  leaving  Theo  without  so 
much  as  a  word. 

"Oh,  excuse  me  for  a  moment,  Mr.  DuBoise, — you  must 
meet  my  friend."  With  an  almost  breaking  heart  Theo  sprang 
after  her  friend  and  laid  an  entreating  hand  upon  her  arm, 
whispering  beseechingly : 

"Oh,  do  not  forsake  me— I  have  done  no  wrong — I  swear 
it.  Help  me  to  outwit  and  get  away  from  this  man  for  God's 
sake!"  Mrs.  Evans  looked  for  a  moment  into  the  pleading  eyes, 
and  her  tender  heart  went  out  in  sympathy  to  her  sister  in  dis- 
tress. "Poor  child,"  she  thought,  "poor  child,  she  is  unfortun- 
ately weak,  I  fear,  and  I  will  not  desert  her  if  she  needs  me.  How 
do  I  know  what  trials  or  circumstances  have  placed  her  in  this 
seemingly  false  position?  I  will  yield  to  the  better  and  tender 
promptings  of  my  heart  and  love  and  help  her  if  I  may."  Taking 
Theo's  hand  and  silently  pressing  it,  Mrs.  Evans  turned  back  a 
few  steps  and  paused,  saying  gently : 

"Your  friend  can  come  to  me  if  he  wishes  to  meet  me." 
Theo  smiled  gratefully  and  nodded  an  invitation  to  the  man 
across  the  room,  and  with  quick  steps  he  cleared  the  space  be- 
tween and  stood  before  these  two  beautiful  women,  his  hand- 
some face  aglow  with  genuine  admiration.  "Mr.  DuBoise — my 
friend  Mrs.  Evans,  with  whom  I  am  stopping." 

"I  am  certainly  glad  to  meet  any  friend  of  Mrs.  Arlington's," 
bowing  low  and  impressively.  Then  to  Theo  with  an  exultant 
ring  in  his  tones : 

"How  very  fortunate  T  am.  Surely  my  lucky  star  must  be 
in  the  ascendency  at  last."  Theo  shivered  as  with  cold  and  turn- 
ing to  Mrs.  Evans  she  said  meaningly : 

"Do  you  suppose  your  friend  really  will  pass  through  this 
eveninr  ?  The  train  is  dreadfully  late  and  your  mother  will  be 
uneasy  about  us  will  she  not?"  Mrs.  Evans  took  her  cue  and 
answered : 

"I  am  not  sure  that  Inez  will  be  on  that  train,  and  if  you 
are  tired  waiting  we  will  go  home.  It  is  getting  late  and  mother 
will  worry."  DuBoise  caught  his  breath  uneasily.  Was  he  going 
to  lose  in  the  game  when  he  was  sure  it  was  won?     With  his 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  179 

most  persuasive  manner  he  turned  to  Mrs.  Evans :  "Please 
do  not  go  just  yet — so  soon  after  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  you.  I  have  been  so  lonely  since  leaving  New  York,  that 
it  hurts  to  part  with  a  friend  as  soon  as  I  have  found  one." 

Theo  was  not  in  the  least,  surprised  that  her  friend  should 
yield  to  the  personal  magnetism  of  the  man,  nor  that  she  smil- 
ingly replied: 

"You  might  call,  perhaps,  if  you  care  to."  Then  to  Theo: 
"I  think  we  will  go  now.    I  hate  a  place  like  this  on  Sunday." 

"Oh,  thank  you.  May  I  really  call?"  questioned  DuBoise 
eagerly.  "What  is  your  address,  please?"  Mrs.  Evans  hastily 
wrote  her  address  on  the  card  which  he  extended,  and  said: 

"Come  when  you  wish.    My  home  is  in  the mill  village." 

Theo  blushed  painfully  and  watched  the  handsome  face  for  some 
sign  of  trepidation;  but  he  did  not  betray  with  so  much  as  the 
flicker  of  an  eyelid,  that  he  was  astonished  to  learn  that  the  lovely 
Mrs.  Arlington  had  friends  among  factory  people,  and  could  stoop 
to  visit  them !    He  only  gallantly  returned : 

"Some  of  the  very  best  people  I  have"  ever  known — even  some 
of  my  own  best  friends,  are  mill  people.  When  may  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  calling — this  evening  about  eight  o'clock?'' 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so — will  that  suit  you,  Mrs.  Arlington?"  in- 
differently. 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  replied  Theo  icily,  wondering  what  move 
to  make  next,  and  astonished  beyond  measure  to  find  that 
DuBoise  could  lie  so  glibly.  She  was  sure  he  had  no  friends 
among  mill  people,  and  confident  that  he  would  be  ashamed  for 
New  York  society  to  know  that  he  contemplated  making  a  call  in 
a  mill  village.  How  she  hated  him  at  that  moment!  They 
walked  out  to  a  carriage,  DuBoise  following  and  politely  helping 
them-  in,  then  standing  with  bared  head  as  they  were  driven 
away,  with  devilish  emotions  in  his  breast.  How  lucky  he  had 
been !  Beautiful  Theo !  At  last  he  was  sure  that  he  might 
address  her  more  boldly  than  in  the  past.  She  had  never  given 
him  the  least  sign  that  she  had  tender  thoughts  of  him,  but  now, 
she  was  in  trouble;  let  liis  ready  sympathy  win  her  confi- 
dence— then  all  would  be  easy,  he  thought.  Her  husband  was  a 
brute  from  whom  she  could  easily  get  a  divorce — then  all  would 
be  plain  sailing — he,  DuBoise,  would  marry  her,  and  then,  they 
would  "live  happily  ever  after,"  he  concluded. 


180  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

For  several  moments  silence  reigned  in  that  carriage,  each 
dreading  to  speak  the  first  word,  yet  longing  for  the  explanation 
that  was  bound  to  come.  At  last  Theo  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
and  leaned  toward  her  friend  with  lips  white  and  drawn,  her 
voice  hoarse  with  misery: 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  thinking  terrible  things  of 
me,  dear  Mrs.  Evans,  but  I  do  sincerely  assure  you  that  I  have  not 
wilfully  done  wrong.  If  you  knew  all  you  would  say  that  I  am 
more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  I  am  so  glad  I  had  already 
written  you  everything  before  this  happened.  You  will  believe 
me  when  you  read  the  letter  I  left  on  the  dresser  for  you.  I  have 
wronged  you  though,  in  that  I  did  not  tell  you  all  about  myself, 
before  accepting  your  kind  hospitality.  Put  me  down  at  the 
first  hotel  we  pass  and  tell  me  good-bye  forever.  I  won't  blame 
you — you've  been  better  to  me  than  I  deserved,  and  I  shall  al- 
ways remember  you,  and  how  you  made  me  wish  to  be  a  better 
woman — to  be  like  you."  Ere  she  paused  Mrs.  Evans'  arms  were 
around  her  and  she  knew  she  was  not  forsaken. 

"Put  you  down  at  a  hotel;  indeed,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing. 
You  are  going  straight  home  with  me,  meet  that  man  bravely 
and  dare  him  to  follow  you  further — if  that  is  what  he  is  doing, 
and  I  confess  it  does  seem  so — but  he  has  the  appearance  of  a 
perfect  gentleman,  and  surely  you  can  stop  him  if  you  try.  But 
what  about  your  valise?  You  have  a  ticket  for  Chattanooga, 
and  your  valise  has  already  been  checked  there?" 

"Put  me  down  at  the  first  hotel,  you  dearest  of  all  friends. 
I  must  catch  that  train  if  possible.  If  I  fail,  I  shall  go  on  the 
next.  I  don't  feel  worthy  to  accept  your  kind  hospitality  after 
this — after  knowing  that  I  have  been  followed  by  that  scoundrel, 
who  is  the  whole  cause  of  all  my  troubles."  Mrs.  Evans  tried 
to  sooth  and  advise  but  all  .to  no  avail.     Theo  was  half  wild : 

"Oh,  you  are  so  goood  to  me — but  please  don't  insist — I 
can't  go  home  with  you.  I  simply  will  not  meet  that  man.  You 
don't  know  him — I  do,  at  least,  and  I  am  afraid  of  him,"  sobbed 
Theo  almost  incoherently. 

"My  dear,  why  are  you  so  afraid  of  him?  I  don't  under- 
stand. Why  do  you  deem  it  necessary  to  'outwit'  the  man,  when 
all  that  is  needed  is  for  you  to  bravely  show  your  colors,  and  let 
him  know  where  you  stand.  He  surely  would  not  persecute  you 
with  his  attentions  if  he  knew  they  were  so  distasteful.  Come 
with  me,  dear,  and  defy  him  if  needs  be.    I  will  stand  by  you — 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  181 

I  will  not  forsake  you — only  be  brave  and  do  right — "  But  Theo 
interrupted  with  a  sharp  cry : 

"No,  no.  I  don't  want  a  word  with  him!  My  only  safety 
is  away  from  him — I  must  get  entirely  away.  Didn't  you  feel 
his  hypnotic  influence,  his  great  personal  magnetism?  He  can 
make  one  like  and  confide  in  him  even  when  their  better  judgment 
is  thundering  a  mighty  warning.  I  love  you  and  thank  you,  but 
I  dare  not  come  with  you." 

"I  am  sorry  now  that  I  gave-  him  our  address — I  don't  know 
why  I  did  it — but  it  seemed  almost  rude  not  to,"  glancing  back. 
Then :  "Oh,  I  believe  he  is  following  us !  Glance  through  the 
curtains,"  in  alarm. 

"Oh,  can  it  be  possible?"  cried  Theo.  "Yes,  it  is  true — he 
feared  to  risk  losing  me — he  is  following  us !"  terribly  frightened. 

"Dear  little  coward,  I  wish  I  could  give  you  some  of  my 
courage  and  spunk.  I  can't  understand,  but  I  will  help  you  in 
your  own  way,  if  you  will  not  listen  to  reason.  There  is  a  hotel 
just  around  a  corner  a  few  blocks  from  here.  We  might  drive 
fast  and  get  far  enough  ahead  for  you  to  jump  out  and  dash  into 
the  hotel  before  he  could  turn  the  corner  and  see  that  we  had 
stopped.     Shall  we  try?" 

"Yes,  oh,  yes!  Help  me  a  little  longer  I  pray — bless  your 
heart!" 

"And  will  you  write  to  me  when  you  are  settled — or  before 
— and  let  me  know  if  you  have  successfully  eluded  him?"  asked 
Mrs.  Evans,  gently  stroking  the  trembling  fingers  with  her  own 
firm  white  one. 

"I  will,  indeed  I  will ;  though  when  you  read  the  letter  on 
the  dresser,  you  may  never  wish  to  hear  from  me,"  piteouslv. 

"Mrs.  Gray — Arlington,  I  am  deeply  interested  in  you  and 
shall  be  more  than  grieved  if  you  forget  to  write.  God  forbid 
that  I  should  set  myself  up  as  your  judge,  or  that  I  should  con- 
demn you.  I  don't  know  how  you  have  been  tried  or  how  you 
have  fought  your  battles  with  this  sinful  world.  But  this  I  do 
know — we  are  all  sinners  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  no  one  is 
worthy  to  judge  his  or  her  neighbor.  I  shall  not  judge  you." 
Then  she  spoke  to  the  driver : 

"Drive  fast  as  you  possibly  can  from  here  to  Hotel," 

and  they  made  a  quick  dash  around  the  corner,  paused  for  a 
memont  in  front  of  the  hotel.     Theo  sprang  out  and  ran  hur- 


182  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

riedly  inside  and  the  carriage  had  just  dashed  away,  when  the 
one  in  pursuit  turned  the  corner. 

"Now,  drive  slowly,"  commanded  Mrs.  Evans.  And  the 
driver  pulled  his  horses  down  to  a  tseady  walk. 

As  Theo  sprang  from  the  carriage  she  had  said:  "If  you 
have  it  to  do,  tell  him  I  said  I  was  going  to  Norfolk.  The  lie 
will  be  mine — not  yours." 

Mrs.  Evans  shook  her  head  disapprovingly  and  sank  back 
in  her  seat  almost  in  tears  over  Theo's  exasperating  weakness. 
Yet  since  seeing  and  speaking  with  DuBoise  she  could  under- 
stand how  easily  an  unsuspecting  and  innocent  girl  might  be 
influenced  by  him.  He  was  unusually  handsome,  had  a  fine  figure, 
which  showed  strength,  and  above  all  and  through  all  there 
radiated  from  his  presence  a  personal  magnetism  that  was  cap- 
tivating and  fascinating.  His  hair  and  eyes  were  black  as  mid- 
night, and  his  face  clean  shaven.  She  had  never  met  a  more 
attractive  man,  though  since  being  warned  by  Theo,  felt  that  he 
he  was  not  a  desirable  acquaintance.  She  was  only  half  sorry, 
though,  to  think  that  she  would  soon  see  him  again — would  soon 
have  the  chance  to  entertain  him  in  her  little  front  room,  if  he 
^carecl  to  stop  awhile. 

As  her  carriage  turned  into  the  street  on  which  she  lived, 
Mrs.  Evans  was  relieved  to  see  that  the  one  following  went 
straight  on.  DuBoise  was  evidently  satisfied  that  she  had  not 
tried  to  mislead  him,  and  would  now  wait  patiently  till  the  hour 
to  call. 

It  was  just  eight  o'clock.  Mrs.  Evans  had  just  finished  read- 
ing Theo's  pitiful  confession,  half  offended  because  of  the  en- 
closed money.  But  old  Mrs.  Jones  soothed  her  by  saying  that 
the  child  meant  well,  and  that  they  would  accept  the  present  in 
the  spirit  it  was  given,  and  be  thankful  that  they  had  "enter- 
tained an  angel  unawares,"  and  the  old  lady  put  the  money  away 
"for  hard  times."  Over  and  over  again  Mrs.  Evans  read  Thso's 
letter,  keeping  the  contents  sacredly  to  herself.  Theo  had 
not  spared  herself,  but  humbly  admitted  that  she  had  been  silly, 
though  not  wilfully  sinful  or  a  false  wife;  that  if  she  could  live 
the  past  two  years  over  again,  she  would  be  more  discreet ;  that 
she  had  unconsciously  drifted  into  a  too  close  intimacy  with  Du- 
Boise and  never  dreamed  of  danger  till  the  night  of  "the  ball." 
That  "Jack"  had  said  some  terrible  things  and  insulted  her  be- 
yond pardon ;  that  Gray  was  her  own  middle  name,  and  her 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  1S3 

mother's  maiden  name ;  that  she  would  never  again  claim  the 
name  of  Arlington,  and  that  she  hoped  never  to  see  "Jack" 
again,  for  he  despised  her.  The  letter  was  long  and  full  of  soul 
anguish,  and  ended  with  a  beautiful  tribute  of  love  to  Mrs.  Evans 
and  *'the  dear  little  mother"  and  begged  them  to  not  be  offended 
because  of  the  enclosed  token  of  her  gratitude — that  she  was  well 
able  to  afford  it  ,etc.  Theo  made  a  clear  breast  of  everything — 
she  kept  nothing  back  except  that  Jack  had  sent  her  flowers  and 
a  penitent  note.  Why  should  she  lacerate  her  already  bleeding 
heart  by  that  painful  recital? — they  had  come  too  late  and  could 
make  no  difference!  She  asked  that  her  miserable  tale  of  sor- 
row be  kept  sacredly  secret,  and  that  she  might  be  kindly  re- 
membered and  not  harshly  condemned. 

Mrs.  Evans  had  once  mingled  in  high  society  herself,  and 
felt  that  she  knew  just  how  matters  stood  between  Theo  and 
r>n "Boise.  She  understood  bow  he  had  gradually  and  persistent- 
ly sought  to  win  the  confidence  of  the  unsuspecting  Theo,  and 
had  made  a  wreck  of  her  happiness.  Oh,  it  was  pitiful — it  was 
awful!  And  such  scoundrels  were  permitted  to  mingle  with  the 
best  society  and  allowed  entrance  into  homes  wmere  there  were 
pure  and  innocent  girls.  Alas !  alas !  There  were  tears  in  her 
beautiful  eyes  and  her  heart  throbbed  painfully  as  she  opened 
the  door  to  DuBoise  and  allowed  him  to  enter  the  little  "front" 
room.'  She  still  held  the  letter  in  her  hand,  and  though  her 
greeting  was  courteous  the  man  felt  as  if  a  breeze  from  Iceland 
had  struck  him.  He  glanced  around,  thinking  this  a  "queer 
parlor,"  and  wondering  why  Theo  was  not  present.  Mrs.  Evans 
did  not  ask  him  to  be  seated,  and  remained  standing  herself  as 
she  said: 

"You  will  not  care  to  be  seated,  I  think,  when  I  tell  you 
that  my  friend  has  gone,"  frigidly. 

"Indeed!"  in  polite  surprise.  "Where  to?  Her  departure 
was  rather  sudden  was  it  not?"  trying  to  hide  his  impatience. 

"Oh,  no,  she  intended  all  the  time  to  leave  me  this  evening." 

"I  don't  understand.  Why — she  knew  I  was  to  call — ,"  he 
stammered. 

"And  wished  to  avoid  you,"  added  Mrs.  Evans,  bowing 
slightly. 

"But  why  should  she  wish  to  avoid  one  who  is  her  friend?" 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon — are  you  really  her  friend?  Then  I  will 
tell  you  something.     She  says  she  is  being  hounded  by  a  scroun- 


184  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

drel  who  has  caused  her  great  trouble  and  whose  attentions  are 
odious  and  detestable,"  looking  him  squarely  in  the  face,  a  faint 
smile  about  her  lips. 

"Merciful  heavens!"  apparently  shocked.  "What  can  you 
mean?  Mrs.  Arlington  is  a  respected  and  very  much  admired 
friend  of  mine  and  if  any  one  is  persecuting  her  in  such  a  man- 
ner— "  Mrs.  Evans  threw  out  her  hand  in  fine  scorn  as  she 
interrupted  with  much  spirit : 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  'whip  the  devil  around  the  stump,' 
for  I  know  everything — you  are  the  man !  I  know  your  kind, 
and  will  be  pleased  to  bid  you  good-bye."  DuBoise  recoiled  and 
flushed  angrily,  though  he  spoke  calmly: 

"Madam,  I  think  you  forget  that  you  invited  me  here,  and 
that  common  courtesy  demands  that  you  treat  a  guest  kindly. 
I  am  a  gentleman,  and  have  never  said  one  word  to  Mrs.  Arling- 
ton unbecoming — " 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  you  haven't!  Such  a  course  would  have 
opened  her  eyes  to  her  danger.  You  have  employed  a  crafty, 
subtle  cunning,  that  she  might  not  suspect  your  designs;  now  a 
web  of  damning  circumstantial  evidence  is  woven  about  her  and 
the  poor  victim  sees  no  hope  except  in  flight.  You  have  parted 
that  woman  and  her  husband — you  have  blighted  her- young  life 
forever.  Can  you  wonder  that  she  despises  you,  now  that  she 
understands?"  DuBoise  grew  white  with  mingled  rage  and  dis- 
appointment, though  he  spoke  calmly : 

"I  am  surprised  to  find  that  you  who  have  such  a  sweet 
and  charitable  appearance,  should  in  reality  be  cruel  and  heart- 
less. God  knows  I  wouldn't  harm  a  hair  on  the  dear  woman's 
head.  But  if  she  were  free  from  her  fool  of  a  husband,  I  would 
lay  my  heart  and  hand  at  her  feet,"  he  declared  boldly.  "Will 
you  tell  me  where  she  has  gone?  I  must  find  her  and  straighten 
this  horrid  tangle.  She  must  not  think  such  terrible  things  of 
one  who  is  her  best  friend.  Don't  you  know  there  is  always  two 
sides  to  a  question?  You  have  cruelly  misjudged  me."  Mrs. 
Evans'  slipper  tapped  the  floor  impatiently : 

"She  said  she  was  going  to  Norfolk.  But  I  beg  you,  for  her 
sake,  for  your  own  sake,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  follow  her! 
She  is  desperate  and  might  end  her  life !  If  I  have  wronged  or 
misjudged  you  I  am  sorry.    If  you  are  a  gentleman,  prove  it!" 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  185 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

"How  little  it  costs,  if  we  give  it  a  thought, 

To  make  happy  some  heart  each  day. 
Just  one  kind  word  or  a  tender  smile 

As   we  go   on   our   daily  way. 
Perchance  a  look  will  suffice  to  clear 

The  cloud  from  a  neighbor's  face, 
And  the  press  of  a  hand  in  sympathy 

A  sorrowful  tear  efface. 

"One  walks  in  sunlight,  another  goes  . 

All   wearily  in  the  shade; 
One  treads  a  path  that  is  fair  and  smooth 

Another   must   pray   for   aid. 
It  costs  so  little,  I  wonder  why 

We  give  it  so  little  thought; 
A  smile — kind  words — a  glance — a  touch 

What  magic  with  them  is  wrought." 

Theo  did  indeed  catch  that  belated  train,  and  when  DuBoise 
was  making  his  call,  she  was  far  out  on  her  way  to  Chattanooga, 
reasonably  sure  that  she  had  successfully  eluded  him,  yet  con- 
sumed by  a  terrible  fear  and  dread,  and  oppressed  by  a  sense 
of  wrong  doing. 

With  a  sickening  feeling  of  despair  she  wondered  why  she 
had  "run"  from  the  man  like  a  guilty  thing.  Why  had  she  not 
followed  the  advice  of  good  Mrs.  Evans,  and  dared  him  to  follow 
or  persecute  her  with  his  unwelcome  attentions?  Why?  why? 
It  was  because  she  never  wanted  Jack  to  hear  her  name  coupled 
with  that  of  DuBoise,  and  felt  that  he  would  know  it  if  she  spent 
even  a  moment  in  his  society.  She  wondered  why  it  was  that  she 
had  enjoyed  the  man's  society  in  the  past,  and  now  when  it  was 
too  late  to  make  any  difference,  why  she  could  not  endure  him. 
She  was  finding  the  study  of  herself  aggravatingly  complicated. 
She  wondered  if  DuBoise  had  called  on  Mrs.  Evans,  and  smiled 
over  the  thought  of  the  reception  she  must  have  given  him.  She 
understood  her  impulsive  friend  well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  the 
man  would  be  made  to  see  himself  in  a  new  light,  and  would 
have  given  much  to  know  how  he  appreciated  the  picture. 


1S6  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Evans  would  induce  him  to  return  to  New 
York.  And  what  if  he  should  see  and  tell  Jack  that  she  had 
come  South?  She  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  Jacks'  blind, 
jealous  rage,  and  how  he  would  jump  to  terrible  conclusions  and 
perhaps  strike  DuBoise  dead  at  his  feet.  But  no,  DuBoise  would 
never  try  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation — she  knew  that.  He 
would  be  more  likely  to  do  everything  in  his  power  to  avert  it — 
if  a  reconciliation  were  possible,  which  it  wasn't,  as  the  memory 
of  that  last  bitter  quarrel  rose  before  her  mental  vision.  Her 
plea  for  love  and  trust  had  been  met  with  cruel  and  bitter  denun- 
ciations; insult  had  been  added  to  injury — all  was  over  forever 
between  her  and  Jack.     Then  sweet  charity  whispered: 

"He  repented — remember  that  note,  and  those  flowers.  His 
love  for  you  and  your  own  actions,  made  him  unreasonable. 

In  a  crowd,  yet  all  alone.  Theo  wrapped  herself  in  such  a 
mantle  of  dignity  and  reserve  during  her  trip  South,  that  no  one 
ventured  to  address  a  word  to  her.  Busy  with  her  own  miser- 
able thoughts  and  wild  conjectures,  she  paid  no  heed  to  those 
around  her,  and  as  night  shut  from  sight  the  beautiful  scenery 
through  which  she  was  passing,  there  was  nothing  to  arrest  her 
thoughts  and  turn  them  into  more  pleasant  channels. 

As  she  neared  Morristown,  and  heard  the  porter  call  out, 
"Morristown,  next  station:  change  cars  for  Asheville,  Spartan- 
burg and  Columbia."  she  wished  she  had  her  valise  and  could 
make  the  change.  She  had  often  wished  to  see  Asheville  and 
Biltmore,  and  had  longed  to  visit  Hot  Springs.  Well,  perhaps, 
she  would  later  on.  Anyway,  she  intended  going  tot  Columbia 
before  she  stopped,  even  if  she  was  "going  all  around  the  elbow 
to  get  to  the  thumb,"  as  a  glance  at  a  little  railroad  map  and  time 
table  told  her  she  was  doing. 

On  arriving  at  Chattanooga,  she  went  to  one  of  the  best 
hotels,  registered  as  Mrs.  Dosia  Gray,  New  York.  She  noticed 
that  several  other  guests  were  registered  from  New  York,  but 
none  whom  she  knew.  She  thought  that  if  DuBoise  should  fol- 
low and  examine  the  book,  he  would  not  recognize  her  name,  as 
he  did  not  know  that  she  was  traveling  incognito.  But  this  did 
not  keep  her  from  using  every  precaution,  and  she  had  her  meals. 
dinner,  supper  and  breakfast,  served  in  her  room.  She  would 
not  even  go  to  the  ladies'  parlor,  but  asked  a  servant  to  bring 
her  something  to  read. 

"What  kind  of  reading  do  you  like,  Miss?"  respectfully. 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  1S7 

"Oh,  anything  to  pass  off  time.  Bring  some  books  and 
magazines — the  first  thing  you  come  to — it  doesn't  matter," 
wearily.  And  the  servant  seeing  that  she  was  in  trouble,  sought 
to  bring  something  to  comfort  and  cheer  her,  and  placed  in  her 
hands  one  of  the  greatest  books  published,  "Apples  of  Gold  in 
Pictures  of  Silver."     He  also  brought  several  nice  magazines. 

Theo — or  Dosia — we  must  now  call  her,  glanced  at  the  book 
impatiently.  She  saw  that  it  was  "religious,"  and  was  sure  it  was 
as  dry  and  uninteresting  as  the  few  sermons  she  had  heard  in 
the  past.  But  as  she  turned  the  leaves  and  saw  poetry,  she 
paused,  to  read : 

"How  long  we  live,  not  years,  but  actions  tell ; 

The  man  lives  twice  who  lives  the  first  life  well; 
Make,  then,  while  yet  ye  may,  your  God  your  friend, 

Whom  Christians  worship,  yet  not  comprehend. 
The  trust  that's  given,  guard;  and  to  yourself  be  just: 

For  live  we  how  we  can,  yet  die  we  must." 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  wretched  girl's  emotion  as 
she  re-read  these  lines  which  impressed  her  with  a  solmenity 
never  before  felt  in  all  her  careless,  selfish  life.  Like  Felix  of 
old  she  trembled.  Must  she  really  die? — and  away  from  home 
and  friends?  And  after  death — what  then?  Could  it  really  be 
true  that  there  was  an  eternity?  With  trembling  fingers  she 
turned  the  leaves  and — was  it  fate  which  led  her' to  this? 

"Eternity!     Where?     it  floats  in  the  air; 
Amid  clamor  or  silence,  it  ever  is  there, 
The  question  so  solemn:     Eternity! — where?" 

"Eternity!     Where?    oh,    Eternity!     Where? 

With  redeemed  ones  in  glory  or  friends  in  despair? 
With  one  or  the  other:     Eternity!     Where? 

"Eternity!     Where?     oh,   Eternity!     Where?. 

Friend,  sleep  not,  nor  take  in  this  world  any  share, 
'Till  you  answer  this  question  :     Eternity !     Where  ? 

She  rose  from  her  chair  and  tottered  to  the  bed,  falling  on 
her  face  and  cyring:    "Oh  God,  if  there  be  a  God,  take  this  bur- 


18?  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOH 

den  from  my  heart  and  soul  or  I  shall  die."  It  was  not  the 
prayer  of  a  penitent,  truly  sorry  for  sin,  but  the  frightened  cry 
of  one  who  was  afraid  to  die.  Not  a  prayer  to  be  cleansed  from 
the  guilt  of  sin,  but  to  be  spared  the  punishment.  For  some  time 
the  poor  misguided  girl  lay  across  the  bed  sobbing  as  if  her 
heart  would  break,  but  at  last  her  strong  will  asserted  itself,  and 
she  resolutely  dried  her  eyes,  bathed  her  face  and  picked  up  one 
of  the  magazines.  Again,  as  was  her  habit,  she  looked  for  the 
bits  of  poetry: 

"Has  your  heart  a  bitter  sorrow? 

Live  it  down. 
Think  about  a  glad  tomorrow, 

And  live  it  down. 
You  will  find  it  never  pays,  ' 
Just  to  sit  wet  eyed  and  gaze 
On  the  grave  of  vanished  days — 

Live  it  down." 

"Now,  that's  better — I  like  that — but  there's  no  'glad  tomor- 
row' for  me.  Strange  that  everything  I  happen  to  read  is  a 
pointed  sermon  seemingly  written  on  purpose  for  me!  I  can't 
understand  it  all,"  petulantly. 

Tuesday  she  went  to  Atlanta,  spending  the  night  there,  and 
Wednesday  evening  found  her  in  Columbia,  S.  C.  As  she  stepped 
from  the  train  and  went  with  the  thronging  mass  of  humanity 
into  the  waiting  room,  somehow  she  felt  that  this  would  be  a 
good  place  to  stop  for  awhile. 

Standing  on  the  wide,  extensive  platform  in  front  of  the 
depot,  and  looking  across  the  railroad,  she  saw  several  large 
cotton  mills  and  pretty  villages.  Surely,  that  would  be  a  safe 
retreat.  No  one  would  think  of  looking  for  her  in  a  mill  village. 
She  smiled  over  the  thought  that  she,  a  society  favorite,  should 
be  compelled  to  ask  help  from  ignorant  factory  people!  She 
was  absolutely  sure  she  would  never  see  another  mill  woman 
who  could  be  compared  favorably  with  Mrs.  Evans.  If  there 
were  any  more  of  her  type,  they  were  few  and  far  between.  But 
then,  she  would  not  be  compelled  to  stay  among  them  for  long; 
she  would  find  other  work  pretty  soon ;  there  were  lots  of  things 
she  could  learn,  she  thought.  Ah,  if  the  world  was  only  full  of 
Mrs.  Evanses!    Why  wasn't  everyone  good,  kind  and  helpful? 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  189 

Why  had  she  never  before  realized  the  power  of  kindness  ?  Had 
she  ever  in  her  life,  tried  to  lift  the  burden  from  a  fellow  mortal? 
No,  she  had  been  too  busy  seeking-  pleasures.  She  had  never 
until  now,  realized  the  power  of  little  things  that  cost  nothing — 
kind  looks,  kind  words,  kind  acts  and  warm  handshakes — worth 
more  than  gold.  Our  heroine  heaved  a  sigh  from  the  depths  of 
her  lonely  heart,  and  tears  glistened  in  her  deep  dark  eyes,  as 
she  tried  to  concentrate  her  thoughts  in  one  direction.  What 
should  she  do  next?    Where  should  she  go? 

Captain  Farrell,  the  grand  old  gentleman,  who  was  police 
and  "train  caller,"  was  always  on  the  alert  watching  for  the 
friendless  and  lonely  that  he  might  offer  his  services. 

Hundreds  of  strangers,  lone  women  and  children  traveling 
without  an  escort  or  companion,  can  testify  how  this  good  man 
has  relieved  their  worry  and  anxiety,  by  "seeing  after"  them 
with  such  tender  and  thoughtful  solicitude. 

He  passed  and  re-passed  Dosia  as  she  stood  on  the  plat- 
form, as  far  removed  from  anyone  as  possible,  and  looking  so 
utterly  miserable  and  forlorn.  His  kind  face  beamed  with  hearty 
good  will  and  there  was  just  a  suggestion  of  an  interrogation  in 
his  eye.  He  noticed  that  she  was  alone,  travel  stained  and  weary ; 
that  she  was  young,  beautiful  and  in  trouble.  Her  deep  black 
dress,  sad  face  and  pathetic  brown  eyes  touched  the  sympathetic 
chord  in  Capt.  Farrell's  bosom  that  never  failed  to  respond  to 
the  distressed.  At  last  he  paused  near  her  and  lifted  his  blue  cap 
deferentially,  speaking  in  a  kind  fatherly  way: 

"You  seem  to  be  alone,  Miss.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do 
for  you — any  information  I  can  give?  If  so,  please  command  me. 
It  is  my  business  to  see  after  those  who  are  alone  or  in  need  of  my 
services  in  any  way,  and  I  assure  you  it  will  also  give  me  pleas- 
ure if  I  can  help  you  in  anything,  or  serve  you  in  any  way." 

Dosia  raised  her  eyes  in  glad  surprise.  How  sweet  it  was 
to  be  spoken  to  so  kindly  where  every  one  was  a  stranger  and 
such  a  thing  not  expected.  As  she  looked  into  the  kind  and  hon- 
est face  she  felt  instinctively  that  she  might  trust  him.  And  oh, 
how  she  longed  for  and  needed  a  friend  and  friendly  council. 

"Thank  you, — I  am  a  stranger  in  a  strange  place, — and 
alone.  If  you  can  spare  the  time  I  should  like  to  ask  your  advice 
and  help  in  a  certain  matter — I  mean  I  should  like  to  have  you 
tell  me  how  to  proceed — "     The  old  man  tactfully  interrupted. 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry?    No!    Well  you  just  wait  till  I  call  out 


190  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

the  next  train  which  is  due  pretty  soon,  and  then  I  shall  be  at 
leisure  for  awhile  and 'we  can  talk  it  over.  Of  course,  I'll  help 
you.  Now,  don't  worry,  but  go  into  the  ladies'  private  waiting 
room  where  you  will  find  it  more  pleasant.  There  are  lounges 
and  rockers  in  there  for  the  tired,  a  nice  toilet  room  with  f  uN 
length  mirrors  for  the  proud,"  his  eyes  twinkling,  "and  I  am 
sure  you  can  rest  better  in  there." 

"Thank  you,  so  much.  But  where  is  the  private  room," 
smiling. 

"Come,  and  I  will  show  you." 

As  they  started  back  into  the  waiting  room,  Dosia  cast  one 
more  lingering  look  toward  the  mill  village  and  said:  "I  think 
I  would  like  work  over  there,  if  I  could  get  it." 

Capt.  Farrell  did  not  look  surprised.  He  knew  lots  of  ladies 
with  just  as  pretty  hands,  who  were  just  as  beautifully  man- 
nered and  just  as  refined  as  this  young  girl,  who  worked  in 
mills,  making  good  wages  and  saving  money. 

"Bless  your  life,  there  will  be  no  trouble  about  getting  em- 
ployment," he  returned  briskly,  "and  I  can  certainly  help  you  to 
find  the  most  desirable  place.  But  you  go  in  here  now  and  rest 
till  I  send  for  you,"  motioning  to  a  closed  door.  Dosia  paused, 
thanked  him  prettily  and  asked : 

"But  you  have  so  much  to  see  after — won't  you  forget  me?" 

"Could  anyone  do  that  who  had  once  seen  you?"  returned: 
the  old.  Captain,  gallantly,  and  Dosia  entered  the  private  wait- 
ing room,  feeling  secure  under  the  protection  of  this  genuinely 
good  man. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  idle  man  never  can  bring  to  the  mart 
"The  countless  gold  of  a  merry  heart, 
The  rubies  and  pearls  of  a  loving  eye — 
Nor  the  cunning  hoard  up  in  his  treasury." 

Some  ladies  from  the  mill  village  across  the  way  came  in 
after  awhile  and  took  seats  in  the  general  waiting  room,  look- 
ing around  expectantly. 

One  was  tall,  fair  and  graceful,  and  her  sweet  face  was  lighted 
by  a  pair  of  great  , soulful  blue  eyes,  soft,  tender  and  spiritual, 
making  her  look  more  divine  than  human.  No  "rat"  had  ever 
made  a  nest  'neath  the  silken  waves  of    her    luxuriant    light 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  191 

brown  hair,  which  was  arranged  becomingly  and  coiled  artisti- 
cally at  the  back  of  her  small  shapely  head.  Her  dress  was  a 
snow  white  linen  with  hand  embroidered  collar,  cuffs  and  belt, 
and  her  hat  a  chic  little  sailor  of  fine  quality,  trimmed  with  a 
simple  band  and  pretty  buckle.  More  than  one  admiring  glance 
was  directed  toward  her  as  she  sat  quietly  and  with  unconscious 
dignity,  chatting  in  soft  musical  tones  to  her  younger  sister  who 
looked  like  a  brown-eyed  fairy  bent  on  mischief. 

"A  pure  white  lilly — if  I  am  any  judge  of  character,"  said 
the  Rev.  Phillip  Harris  to  his  friend  Horace  Stanford,  not  know- 
ing that  her  name  was  Lilly — Lilly  Bruner.  Horace  Stanford 
smiled  at  the  low  earnest  voice  of  the  speaker,  and  replied : 

"She  does  look  so,  certainly;  but  I  happen  to  know  that  she 
is  a  factory  girl — and  'can  anything  good  come  out  of  Nazareth?" 

The  Reverend  Harris  turned  to  the  flippant  speaker,  and 
looked  for  a  moment  earnestly  and  yearningly  into  the  hand- 
some dissipated  face : 

"And  yet,  oh,  Horace,  you  will  agree,  will  you  not,  that 
something  good — divinely  good — did  come  out  of  Nazareth?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I'll  agree,  just  to  keep  you  from  arguing  the  case 
or  preaching  me  a  sermon,"  laughingly,  and  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders a  bit  uneasily.  Then  continuing:  "But  your  'white  lilly's 
companion  takes  my  eye.  What  a  trim,  dainty  little  darling  she 
is.  She  wouldn't  weigh  over  a  hundred  pounds  I'm  sure — just 
a  good  armful.  Just  look  at  those  beautiful,  tender,  twinkling 
long-lashed  brown  eyes,  will  you?  And  those  sweet  rose-bud 
lips  were  surely  made  to  be  kissed.  Note  the  dimples  in  her 
pretty  cheeks  and  see  how  saucily  she  shakes  back  those  rebel- 
lious chestnut  curls.  Isn't  she  a  daisy? — no  she  looks  more  like 
a  pansy  with  that  blue  dress — and  Tansies  for  thoughts.'  She's 
my  Pansy."  A  pained  expression  crept  over  the  preacher's  face 
and  he  spoke  impatiently: 

"For  shame,  Horace!  How  can  you  discuss  a  young  girl  in 
such  fashion?    I  am  painfully  surprised  at  you." 

"Pshaw!  Phil,  I  only  frankly  expressed  a  few  thoughts  ex- 
actly like  some  that  are  hidden  beneath  that  clerical  coat  of  yours. 
What's  the  difference  in  'Out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the 
mouth  speaketh,'  and  'As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he?' — 
two  of  your  favorite  texts.  But  here  comes  our  car — let's  catch 
it.  Mother  has  been  looking  for  us  some  time,  and  is  all  im- 
patience to  see  her  ideal  of  manly  perfection,    the    Rev.    Phil. 


192  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

Harris.  Blessed  if  I  don't  believe  she  loves  you  more  than  she 
does  me,"  half  seriously,  as  they  passed  out  of  the  waiting  room. 

The  young  preacher  glanced  back  longingly  for  a  last  look  at 
the  girl  in  white,  while  Horace  Stanford  secretly  determined  to 
manage  some  way,  to  meet  the  girl  in  blue.  He  was  sure  she 
would  be  refreshingly  sweet,  and  a  delightful  change,  and  would 
give  him  a  "nice  time." 

Lilly  and  Hazel  Bruner  had  now  been  joined  by  a  bright 
manly  boy  of  about  fifteen,  who  was  the  very  image  of  Hazel; 
it  was  easy  to  see  that  they  were  brother  and  sisters,  and  that  he 
and  Hazel  were  also  chums. 

Presently  Captain  Farrell  came  an  and  after  shaking  hands 
all  around  and  asking  after  their  mother  said: 

"Well,  girls,  you  certainly  lost  no  time  in  getting  over.  I 
expect,  though,  that  Hazel  is  looking  for  a  blue  uniformed 
soldier,  judging  from  her  bright  expectant  eyes,"  teasingly. 
"But  my  'Yankee'  happens  to  be  dressed  in  black  and  is  a 
woman." 

"You  old  fraud!"  exclaimed  Hazel.  "Don't  you  dare  call  me 
over  the  'phone  again,  or  I'll  prosecute  you  for  'mental  anguish'." 
The  Captain  laughed  and  continued: 

"And  she  wants  to  get  work  over  your  way.  Somehow  I 
am  deeply  interested  in  her,  and  if  I  can  enlist  your  sympathies, 
shall  feel  perfectly  satisfied,  knowing  that  she  will  be  in  good 
hands." 

"Who  is  she?  Where  is  she?  Old  or  young?  Married  or 
single?"  These  and  similar  questions  were  hurled  eagerly  at 
the  Captain  by  Hazel  and  Tom,  while  Lilly  waited  patiently, 
smiling  indulgently  over  their  impetuosity.  When  she  could  get 
in  a  word  she  quietly  said :     . 

"Bring  her  to  us,  Captain.  We  are  all  impatience,  you  see. 
And  you  know  so  well  that  we  shall  be  pleased  to  open  our  doors 
and  our  hearts  to  any  one  whom  you  recommend." 

"But  I  can't  exactly  recommend  her,  as  I  have  never  seen 
her  before.  I  do  not  believe  she  is  a  working  woman.  She  looks 
extremely  sad,  and  it  may  be  that  some  reverse  of  fortune  now 
compells  her  to  work.  When  you  have  seen  her  I  think  you,  too, 
will  be  interested." 

"Well,  whether  you  can  recommend  her  or  not,  if  she  is 
alone  and  without  friends  in  the  city,  that  is  sufficient.  I  only 
hope  she  is  not  proud  and  high  minded, and  that  she  will  like 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  193 

us  for  ourselves.    We  are  prepared  to  love  her,  if  she  will  let  us." 

"Thank  you,  Lilly,  and  bless  you.  You  are  not  one  of  the 
King's  Daughters'  for  nothing ;  you  are  true  to  your  colors."  The 
big  fat  good-natured  colored  woman  who  had  charge  of  the  pri- 
vate waiting  room  was  now  passing  through,  and  the  Captain 
stopped  her: 

"Aunt  DinaTi,  tell  Mrs.  Gray — the  sad  lady  in  black — that  I 
am  ready  for  her,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir;  all  right,  sir,"  bobbing  up  and  down  in  an  old- 
fashioned  courtesy,  and  rolling  her  eyes  comically,  she  dis- 
appeared behind  the  door  that  no  man  dared  to  enter.  Presently 
she  returned  lugging  a  big  valise  and  followed  by  our  lovely 
heroine,  who  had  removed  the  travel  stains,  carefully  re-arranged 
her  abundant  hair  and  looked  very  much  refreshecf. 

Hazel's  big  eyes  opened  wide  and  Tom  gave  an  involuntary 
exclamation  as  the  graceful  figure  came  forward,  looking  neither 
to  the  right  nor  left,  apparently  oblivious  or  indifferent  to  her 
surroundings,  her  great  pathetic  brown  eyes  raised  trustfully  to 
Captain  Farrell  as  he  hastened  forward  to  meet  her  saying  in 
low  tones : 

"I  have  found  some  delightful  friends  for  you — the  very 
best  girls  I  know,  I  believe — and  they  are  mill  girls.  I  hope  you 
will  like  them  and  I  am  sure  you  will." 

"Geewhiz !  There  go  your  laurels  Hazel.  She'll  take  the  cake 
in  every  voting  contest,  and  be  crowned  Queen  of  Love  and 
Beauty  every  clip,"  declared  Tom  in  a  low  voice  to  his  sister. 
Hazel  gave  him  a  warning  nudge  with  her  elbow  and  whispered 
back : 

"My!  Isn't  she  too  perfectly  lovely  for  any  thing?"  showing 
that  she  was  not  at  all  jealous  or  envious. 

As  a  rule,  the  best  class  of  mill  people  have  the  happy 
faculty  of  making  one  feel  at  ease,  and  Dosia's  lonely  heart  went 
out  to  these  sweet  unaffected  girls  as  they  greeted  her  so  cordially 
and  welcomed  her  heartily  and  sincerely.  Lilly's  warm,  firm 
hand  clasp  and  the  light  in  her  blue  eyes  as  she  said  sweetly : 

"I  am  so  glad  to  meet  and  welcome  you,  Mrs.  Gray,  and  hope 
you  will  be  so  delighted  with  our  part  of  the  city,  that  you  will 
decide  to  cast  your  lot  with  us,"  was  enough  to  win  a  heart  that 
was  not  already  thirsting  for  love  and  friendship.  Hazel — im- 
pulsive, passionate  and  loving — caring  nothing  for  "cold  pro- 
prieties" and  "freezing  dignities,"  kissed  her  affectionately  as 


194  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

if  she  had  been  a  dear  friend  and  exclaimed : 

"Bless  your  dear  heart,  I  hope  you  will  love  me  a  little," 
hardly  conscious  of  what  she  was  doing  or  saying. 

''Me  too,"  stammered  Tom  bashfully  as  he  was  presented, 
and  then  they  all  laughed  heartily  at  his  expense. 

"I'm  sure  it  will  be  a  delightfully  easy  task,"  smiled  Dosia, 
speaking  to  both  Hazel  and  Tom,  her  face  beaming  with  grati- 
tude, through  a  trace  of  sadness  still  lurking  in  the  deep  dark 
eyes.     Captain  Farrell  then  spoke  to  her: 

"It  was  certainly  a  ruling  of  Providence  that  these  dear 
girls  should  be  resting  today  and  that  I  should  know  about  it." 

"Bless  your  life,  Mrs.  Gray,  he  knows  absolutely  every- 
thing," declared  Hazel  in  a  desparing  stage  whisper. 

"We  went  shopping  this  afternoon  and  he  saw  us,"  ex- 
plained Lilly  smilingly,  and  shaking  her  head  reprovingly  at 
Hazel. 

"And  he  had  you  to  stop  for  me?"  inquired  Dosia,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"No — we  had  been  at  home  some  little  time,"  said  Lilly. 
"He  'phoned  to  us  to  come  and  capture  a  Yankee,"  declared  the 
irrepressible  Hazel,  with  a  grimace. 

"Well,  you  have  certainly  done  so,"  returned.  Dosia  softly, 
wondering  how  the  man  knew  she  was  a  Yankee. 

"And  you  will  go  with  us?"  asked  Lilly  eagerly. 

"Gladly,  if  I  may,"  replied  Dosia,  whereupon  Master  Tom 
hurriedly  gathered  up  her  valise  and  started  for  the  car  line,  as 
if  afraid  she  would  change  her  mind.  Our  heroine  turned  to 
Capt.  Farrell,  and  with  tear  dimmed  eyes  thanked  him  from  the 
depths  of  a  grateful  heart  for  his  matchless  kindness,  and  added : 

"Experience  has  taught  me  many  things  during  the  past 
few  days,  but  I  think  that  the  most  valuable  lesson  I  have 
learned,  is  the  power  of  genuine  kindness." 

"Why,  child,  it  has  been  a  great  pleasure — the  little  I  have 
done  for  you,  and  if  at  any  time  I  can  serve  you  further,  come  to 
me  as  r  I  were  your  own  father."  As  he  walked  out  to  the  car 
line  with  the  three  beautiful  girls,  nearly  every  eye  followed 
them  admiringly. 

A  week  later,  Dosia  wrote  the  following  letter,  which  will 
explain  how  she  was  getting  along: 
"Dear  Mrs.  Evans : 

"According  to  your  request  and  my  promise  and  believing 


"from  ball  room  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  195 

that  you  really  wish  to  hear  from  me,  I  am  giving  myself  the 
pleasure  of  writing  to  you.    I  am  in  Columbia,  S.  C,  and  actually 

learning  to  weave!     Yes;  learning  to  weave  in  the Cotton 

Mills.  But  first,  let  me  assure  you  that  I  have  seen  no  more  of 
Mr.  DuBoise  and  hope  I  never  shall.  If  you  have  forgiven  my 
deception,  and  weakness,  please  let  me  know  how  you  managed 
him. 

"Have  often  wished  that  I  had  taken  your  advise  instead 
of  running  like  a  coward.  But  it  has  always  been  my  misfortune 
that  regrets  come  too  late  to  make  amends.  I  am  trying  to  face 
the  inevitable — trying  hard  to  forget  the  past  and  make  the  best 
of  things  as  they  come.  But  oh,  there's  a  bitter  pain  and  hope- 
less longing  in  my  heart  that  causes  me  many  wakeful  hours  and 
tear-wet  pillows. 

"I  am  boarding  with  the  widow  Bruner,  one  of  the  most 
lovable  old  ladies  imaginable,  who  treats  me  as  kindly  as  if  I 
were  her  own  daughter.  She  has  two  girls.  Lilly,  aged  twenty, 
and  Hazel,  seventeen ;  also  a  son,  Tom,  about  fifteen. 

"I  never  saw  a  happier  family,  though  I  am  sure  two  sisters 
were  never  more  unlike  than  Lilly  and  Hazel.  Tom  is  the  very 
imp  of  mischief,  and  with  the  ever  ready  help  of  Hazel,  keeps 
things  lively. 

"Lilly  is  like  you  without  your  impulsiveness,  (which  is 
your  chief  charm — your  greatest  charm)  and  I  can't  imagine  her 
calm  serenity  being  disturbed  under  the  most  trying  circum- 
stances.    Here  are  a  few  samples  of  her  sayings : 

"  'Every  chastisement  is  gracious ;  it  is  sent  that  you  may  be 
a  partaker  of  God's  holiness.'  'Nothing  takes  place  by  chance; 
there  is  a  design  worthy  of  a  God  in  every  operation  or  permis- 
sion.' 'Who  sends  this  trouble?  My  good  and  gracious  God; 
let  this  silence  every  murmur.'  I  never  heard  of  such  a  girl. 
She  sees  the  hand  of  God  in  everything,  and  is  so  good  and 
saintly  that  I  am  half  afraid  of  her,  though  I  love  and  admire 
her. 

"Hazel  is  every  whit  human,  and  is  just  a  darling.  Oh,  all 
Southern  people  have  warm  hearts  and  I  love  all  I  have  met.  I 
am  fast  turning  rebel  myself,  and  am  delighted  with  this  beau- 
tiful Southland.  And  our  neighbors — why,  this  whole  mill  vil- 
lage seems  one  big  family,  and  I  think  there  are  comparatively 
few  'black  sheep'  in  the  flock.  I  am  so  glad  that  my  lucky  star 
led  me  to  you,  and  introduced  me  into  this  simple,  honest  mode 


196  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

of  living.  I  have  tried  my  very  best  to  see  where  our  Northern 
writers  get  their  sensational  stuff  concerning  these  people,  and 
have  decided  it  must  be  hatched  from  an  imaginative  and  preju- 
diced brain. 

"Everything  is  nice  and  cosy  here.  Mrs.  Bruner's  front 
yard  is  all  abloom  with  pretty  flowers  tastefully  and  artistically 
grouped  and  bedded,  and  the  back  yard  is  aflame  with  georgeous 
hollyhocks  and  sunflowers,  and  the  same  sweet  homey,  'comfy' 
atmosphere  that  pervaded  your  home  has  settled  around  this. 

"Now  about  my — work — (That  sounds  so  funny)  I  have 
had  to  'get  out'  after  two  days  in  the  mill!  My  hands  were 
terribly  swollen  this  morning,  and  I  can't  begin  to  express  how 
my  feet  ached  last  night.  Mrs.  Bruner  says  my  slippers  are  too 
high-heeled  and  that  it  will  ruin  my  health  to  stand  in  such 
things.  And  what  do  you  think?  She  went  shopping  early  this 
morning,  and  actually  bought  and  presented  me  with  a  pair  of 
broad,  flat,  funny  looking  low-heeled  slippers,  a  number  too 
large !  I  never  before  had  a  present  that  I  appreciated  more,  be- 
cause I  knew  the  motive  back  of  it.  Oh,  she's  a  dear.  I  put  the 
slippers  right  on — I  have  them  on  now, — also  one  of  that  dear 
little  woman's  wrappers  which  she  insisted  would  be  so  much 
more  comfortable  'to  loll  around  in,'  and  if  it  were  not  for  the 
eternal  ache  in  my  heart,  I  could  scream  with  laughter  to  think 
how  shocked  New  York  society  would  be  to  see  me.  Mrs. 
Bruner  says  it's  a  matter  of  health  as  well  as  comfort,  so  while 
I  am  'in  Rome  I  shall  do  as  Rome  does.' 

"Hazel  is  teaching  me  to  weave,  and  says  I  am  learning 
unusually  fast.  She  told  the  overseer  that  I  would  be  ready  for 
a  set  of  looms  next  week,  and  it  frightened  me  so  that  I  felt  my 
hair  rising. 

"Now,  dear,  please  don't  scold  me  for  anything  when  you 
write — if  you  really  do  write.  I  haven't  felt  called  upon  to  air 
my  troubles  to  these  good  people,  who  fully  believe  me  to  be  what 
I  seem,  a  widow  in  reality,  and  in  need  of  work.  I  have  spent 
fifty  dollars  for  a  trunk  and  some  necessary  clothing,  and  paid 
my  board  a  month  in  advance,  and  no  one  suspects  that  I  have 
anything  left.  I'm  sure  it  would  be  safe  to  keep  it  here,  but  I 
guess  I'll  put  it  in  the  bank  as  soon  as  I  can. 

"Give  my  love  to  your  dear  mother  and  kiss  those  sweet 
children  for  me.  If  you  will  favor  me  with  an  answer  to  this  I 
shall  indeed  be  grateful,  and  if  you  care  to  know  how  I  am,  I 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  197 

shall  be  delighted  to  write  you  often  as  you  like.  Anxiously  and 
hopefully  awaiting  a  reply,  I  am  your  sincere  and  grateful 
friend,  THEODOSIA." 

CHAPTER  X 

"Into  life's  bitter  cup  true  friendships  drops 
Balsamic  sweets  to  overpower  the  gall — 
True  friends,  like  ivy  and  the  wall  it  props 
Both  stand  together  or  together  fall." 

Dosia  returned  to  her  work  next  day  and  stuck  to  it  bravely, 
finding  that  to  keep  busy  was  the  best  antidote  for  a  burdened 
and  aching  heart.  She  received  an  immediate  answer  from  Mrs. 
Evans,  written  in  that  good  woman's  own  peculiarly  fascinating 
and  inimitable  style: 

"Mrs.  Dosia  Gray:  , 

"You  dear  little  cowardly,  hum-buggy  'widow !'  you  have  no 
idea — neither  can  I  pump  it  into  your  provoking  little  head — 
how  very  glad  I  was  to  hear  from  you,  and  so  favorably.  If  I 
could  have  gotten  hold  of  you  soon  as  I  had  digested  the  con- 
tents of  the  letter  you  left  on  the  dresser, — well — to  say  the 
least,  I  would  have  choked  you,  you  precious  innocent.  But 
mother  says  we  will  accept  your  present  in  the  same  sweet  spirit 
in  which  you  gave  it,  and  be  thankful — but  I  can't  help  wishing 
you  hadn't  done  that; — forgive  my  independence. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  are  with  such  a  desirable  family.  I  truly 
believe  the  Lord  has  given  'His  angels  charge  concerning  thee,' 
and  that  you  will  not  get  seriously  bumped  and  bruised  as  Fate 
hurls  you  around  over  rough  places ;  that  all  things  will  yet  be 
satisfactorily  explained  and  your  domestic  machinery  readjusted 
so  perfectly  that  it  will  run  smoothly  as  my  looms  and  never 
have  another  'breakout.'  And  dear,  when  that  time  comes,  do 
let  me  know,  so  that  I  can  have  the  satisfaction  of  calling  to  you 
across  space  and  yelling,  'I  told  you  so !' 

"Now  about  DuBoise.  I  had  just  finished  reading  your 
touching  letter  when  he  arrived,  and  was  in  just  the  right  mood 
to  hurl  the  fact  of  your  ignomnious  flight  at  his  defenseless  head, 
tragically  declaring  that  you  had  fled  from  a  scoundrel  who  was 
pursuing  you  with  unwelcome  attentions.  My!  you  ought  to 
have  seen  how  shocked  he  was  and  heard  how  he  longed  to  punch 


198  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

the  head  of  the  villain.  How  he  longed  to  fly  to  your  presence, 
declaring  that  no  one,  should  persecute  a  lady  friend  of  his  in 
such  a  fashion  and  go  unpunished. 

"Oh,  we  had  quite  a  little  spat  I  assure  you.  I  cut,  slashed 
and  stabbed  in  a  round-about  way,  while  he  dodged  this  way  and 
that,  behind  a  shield  of  assumed  innocence.  Finally  when  I 
could  restrain  myself  no  longer,  I  pointed  my  index  finger  at  him 
accusingly  and  exploded  the  bomb,  'Thou  art  the  man!' 

"At  first  he  was  terribly  angry  and  grew  at  least  three 
inches  taller,  as  he  glared  at  me  with  righteous  indignation.  I 
glared  back  with  ten  per  cent,  interest,  till  his  eyes  dropped  in 
confusion,  then  tried  to  finish  him  by  storming:  'If  you  are  a 
gentleman,  prove  it!'  which  he  at  once  tried  to  do  by  word  of 
mouth,  and  almost  made  me  believe  black  was  white,  so  per- 
suasive was  his  eloquence.  Dear,  that  man  is  a  wonder!  He 
ought  to  be  added  to  'the  seven  wonders  of  the  world.' 

"Well,  I  withstood  his  eloquence  and  was  firm  (outwardly) 
as  the  'Rock  of  Gibralter,'  (whatever  that  may  be)  and  at  last 
succeeded  in  making  him  understand  that  actions,  not  words, 
were  the  only  acceptable  proofs — the  only  recognized  fruits  of 
repentence.  He  at  last  promised  faithfully  to  return  to  New 
York  and  leave  you  unmolested,  though  he  declared  he  only 
wanted  to  see  you  and  try  and  straighten  out  things  and  offer 
you  his  pure  and  true  friendship.  He  said  he  would  try  in  the 
future  to  atone  for  the  past.  I  assured  him  that  I  would  hear 
from  you,  and  that  I  would  tell  you  about  how  he  felt.  I  asked 
him  if  he  thought  he  could  manage  to  bring  about  a  reconcila- 
tion  between  you  and  your  husband  and  he  answered  that  he 
should  not  interfere  in  any  way  whatever;  that  your  husband 
was  a  jealous  brute  and  made  your  life  miserable,  and  that  you 
would  be  happied  anywhere  under  any  circumstances  than  with 
your  husband.  He  declared  that  no  one  should  know  from  him 
that  he  had  seen  you. 

"I  was  faithless  enough  to  believe  that  he  would  still  try  to 
find  you,  but  I  received  a  letter  from  him  yesterday  postmarked 
New  York,  so  of  course  he  is  there.  The  letter  is  just  such  a 
one  as  this  'ladykiller'  would  be  supposed  to  write,  beautifully 
worded  and  eloquent,  and  a  touching  tribute  to  my  true  friend- 
ship for  you,  and  to  other  characteristics  which  he  seems  to 
think  I  possess,  and  declaring  himself  to  be  unworthy  the  least 
thought  of  such  a  pure  Christian  woman,'  yet  pleading  to  be 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  199 

kindly  remembered  as  one  who  earnestly  longed  to  reach  and  live 
up  to  my  high  standard!  After  thoroughly  digesting  the  sweet 
morsel,  I  went  to  mother  and  asked  her  to  examine  my  shoulder 
blades  and  see  if  I  had  sprouted  wings ! 

"No,  clear,  I  shall  never  scold  you  for  anything.  I  love  you 
too  well :  and  besides,  I  am  satisfied  that  my  prayers  for  your 
future  welfare,  will  be  answered  in  God's  own  good  time.  I  am 
delighted  to  know  that  you  actually  appreciate  our  Southern  mill 
people,  and  hope  you  will  some  day  feel  inspired  to  write  and 
publish  your  impressions.  So  many  Northerners  have  slandered 
us,  that  should  one  take  up  the  cudgel  (pen)  in  our  defense,  I'd 
wave  my  old  bonnet  till  the  strings  pulled  off,  and  yell  'Hurrah !' 
till  I  became  hoarse.  Whatever  else  you  do  or  leave  undone, 
keep  a  diary.  You  will  find  it  useful  as  well  as  interesting  in 
the  future. 

"Mother  and  the  children  join  in  sending  love  and  kisses  to 
you.  And  of  course  I  wish  to  hear  from  you — you  little  goose! 
Write  as  often  as  you  can,  at  least  once  a  week,  and  always  ex- 
pect an  immediate  answer,  from  your  true  and  loving  friend, 

"ANNIE  EVANS." 

Time  slipped  rapidly  away,  and  Dosia  was  soon  running 
six  looms,  with  Hazel  for  a  side  weaver,  thanks  to  a  kind  and 
obliging  overseer,  and  working  as  if  her  life  depended  on  it. 
She  had  won  the' respect  and  admiration  of  all  and  the  love  of 
many. 

Mrs.  Brunei*  and  Lilly  were  grieved  to  learn  that  she  was 
not  a  Christian ;  but  she  never  pained  them  by  speaking  lightly 
or  skeptically  about  religion,  but  could  seldom  be  induced  to 
accompany  them  to  church.  They  felt  instinctively  that  the 
young  widow  had  gone  through  some  severe  trial  besides  losing 
her  husband — some  sorrow  that  had  shadowed  and  embittered 
her  whole  life,  and  they  pitied  instead  of  condemning  her, 
praying  often  in  secret  for  the  salvation  of  her  soul. 

Day  by  day  the  sad  brown  eyes  took  on  a  more  wistful 
expression  and  occasionally  her  sweet  face  became  deathly  pale, 
while  a  look  of  terror  and  dread  would  sweep  over  her  counte- 
nance. Mrs.  Brunei*  watched  her  with  all  a  mother's  tender 
solicitude,  longing  to  have  the  poor  girl's  confidence,  but  Dosia's 
reserve  when  questioned  about  herself,  held  the  good  woman 
aloof. 

Mrs.  Evans'  letters  were  a  great  comfort  and  consolation 


200  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

and  she  found  much  pleasure  in  keeping  a  faithful  diary — 
a  flood  gate  through  which  she  often  gave  expression  to  the 
pain  and  anguish  pent  up  in  her  soul.  The  'eternal  ache'  in 
her  heart  seemed  to  grow,  in  spite  of  her  brave  efforts  to  be 
resigned  to  her  lot — the  hell  which  she  began  to  realize  she 
had  made  for  herself,  though  she  would  have  died  ten  thou- 
sand deaths  before  she  would  have  asked  Jack  to  forgive  her. 

The  box  of  withered  carnations  and  the  precious  love  let- 
ter were  tenderly  handled  and  caressed  every  night,  and  Jack's 
glove  and  picture  often  nestled  on  her  heart  or  lay  against  her 
cheek  on  a  pillow  wet  with  tears.  She  often  went  shopping  on 
Saturday  afternoons  with  Lilly  and  Hazel,  always  stopping 
for  a  word  with  good  old  Captain  Farrell,  if  she  passed  the 
depot  at  a  time  when  he  was  not  busy. 

The  Rev.  Philip  Harris  had  held  a  protracted  meeting  in 
the  Baptist  church  on  the  mill  village  and  was  a  frequent  visitor 
at  Mrs.  Bruner's,  where  a  tall,  stately  girl  with  serious  blue 
eyes  welcomed  him  with  blushing  cheeks.  Horace  Stanford, 
too,  had  tactfully  managed  to  get  an  introduction  to  Hazel,  and 
was  paying  her  very  marked  attentions,  causing  Mrs.  Bruner 
some  little  uneasiness,  though  she  had  perfect  confidence  in 
her  saucy  young  daughter's  ability  to  fight  her  own  battles. 
The  preacher  also,  being  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  young 
man's  character,  had  remonstrated  with  him  and  seriously 
threatened  to  unmask  him,  if  he  showed  the  least  inclination 
to  flirt  with  the  innocent  girl. 

It  was  seldom  that  Dosia  could  be  induced  to  stay  in  the 
parlor  for  half  an  hour  when  the  girls  had  company,  but  occa- 
sionally they  succeeded  in  getting  her  to  play  the  organ  and 
sing,  and  at  such  times  she  was  always  complimented  in  the 
highest  terms — by  profound  and  breathless  silence,  tearful 
eyes  and  tremulous  lips.  She  was  an  accomplished  musician 
and  trouble  had  given  her  voice  a  touching  pathos  that  none 
could  withstand. 

One  night  late  in  September,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Harriss  and 
Lillie  were  seated  on  the  porch  just  outside  the  parlor  window, 
while  Hazel  and  Dosia  were  practicing  some  new  music.  Sud- 
denly Hazel  threw  the  new  music  aside  and  commenced  to  play 
and  sing  the  sad  old  song  that  Dosia  had  sung  for  Jack  that 
miserable   morning: 


FROM   BALL   ROOM   TO   WEAVE   ROOM.  201 

"I'm   longing   so   sadly   I'm   longing 

For  the  flowers  that  have  blossomed  and  fled — 
For  the  hopes  that  around  me  were  thronging — 

But  alas!  all  are  withered  and  dead. 
Beauties   I   thought   ne'er   would   perish 

One  by  one  vanish  away. 
There's  nothing  on  earth  that  we  cherish 

That's  lovely  and  true  that  will  stay. 
Flitting,  flitting  away — 

All  that  we  cherish  most  dear 
There's  nothing  on  earth  that  will  stay — 

The  roses  must  die  with  the  year." 
She  sang  no  further  for  Dosia  cried  out  in  pain: 

"Oh,  Hazel,  not  that,  not  that!  I  can't  bear  it!"  and  her 
face  was  quivering  with  anguish  and  her  hands  pressed  con- 
vulsively to  her  heart.  Hazel  was  deeply  penitent  and  won- 
dered why  she  had  been  so  thoughtless  in  the  presence  of  one 
so  recently  and  sadly  bereaved. 

The  preacher  and  Lillie  had  heard  and  seen  it  all  through 
the  open  window.  He  had  been  studying  our  heroine  for  two 
months,  and  with  his  keen  perception  and  intuition  had  con- 
cluded that  she  was  in  deep  trouble  and  stumbling  along  in  the 
dark  blindly  for  comfort  and  help,  but  seeking  it  in  the  wrong 
direction. 

He  and  Lilly  were  both  deeply  interested  in  the  sweet- 
faced  sad-eyed  little  widow,  and  tried  in  gentle  tactful  ways 
to  lead  her  to  the  light.  Just  now  the  preacher  had  an  in- 
spiration, and  taking  Lilly's  hand  whispered  it  to  her.  Then 
with  a  silent  prayer  to  God,  asking  His  help  and  blessing,  the 
preacher  waited  a  few  moments  till  Dosia  had  regained  her 
self  control  then  called  to  her  through  the  open  window,  and 
asked  her  if  she  would  sing  and  play  "Abide  With  Me,"  de- 
claring it  to  be  his  favorite  and  the  sweetest  song  he  had  ever 
heard. 

She  seated  herself  at  the  organ  and  turned  to  the  grand 
old  hymn  and  sang: 

"Abide  with  me!     Fast  falls  the  eventide, 

The  darkness  deepens — Lord  with  me  abide! 
When  other  helpers  fail  and  comforts  flee, 
Help   of  the  helpless,   oh,   abide  with  me!" 


202  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

The  sweet  lips  trembled,  the  dark  eyes  fifilled  with  tears 
and  the  voice  broke  in  a  pitiful,  prayerful  wail  of  entreaty — 
"Help  of  the  helpless,  oh,  abide  with  me!"  Hazel  sobbed  out- 
right "Oh,  what  beautiful  words!"  exclaimed  Dosia,  "you 
and  Lilly  sing — I'll  play  for  you,  please,  please,  Mr.  Harriss," 
eagerly,  and  the  minister  stepped  through  the  1owt  window 
with  Lilly  at  his  side  and  together  they  sang  the  remainder  of 
the  beautiful  song.  When  it  was  finished  Dosia  rose  hurriedly 
and  went  to  the  open  window  and  gazed  at  the  twinkling  stars. 
Hazel  fled  from  the  room.  Lilly  looked  wistfully  after  her 
sister  and  softly  began  to  sing: 

"What  a  friend  we  have  in  Jesus."  The  minister  joined 
in  with  his  rich  baritone  and  Mrs.  Bruner  in  the  next  room, 
thought  it  the  sweetest  and  most  heavenly  music  she  had  ever 
heard.  Dosia  almost  held  her  breath,  so  eager  was  she  to  catch 
every  word.  Soon  after  the  song  was  finished,  she  came  from 
the  window  and  gave  each  of  these  friends  a  cold,  trembling 
hand,  saying  brokenly: 

"I  understand,  and  thank  you.  I  do  want  to  be  a  Christian 
— I  want  the  Lord  to  abide  with  me — I  want  Jesus  to  be  my 
friend;  pray  for  me.  And  she  went  swiftly  from  the  room 
with  the  preacher's  "Thank  God!  God  bless  you  my  sister," 
ringing  in  her  ears. 

On  going  upstairs  to  her  room,  she  found  Hazel  crouched 
on  the  top  landing,  shaking  with  emotion.  Silently  she  seated 
herself  by  the  young  girl  and  placed  a  sympathetic  arm  around 
her.     Presently  Hazel  broke  out  impatiently: 

"Whatever  is  the  matter  with  us?  I've  heard  those  old 
songs  time  and  again  without  being  touched,  but  tonight  I  feel 
miserable — just  as  if  I  had  no  friend  on  earth  or  in  heaven!" 
in  a  little  jerky  voice. 

"Oh,  Hazel  think!  you  have  the  dearest  little  mother,  a 
sweet  and  loving  sister  and  brother.  I  have  no  one — no  one  to 
love  me  or  care  what  becomes  of  me;  I  am  indeed  alone, — all 
alone!"  brokenly. 

"My  dear  child,  how  can  you  say  that?"  asked  Mrs. 
Bruner  as  she  came  out  of  Tom's  room  and  seated  herself  by 
them.  "We  all  love  you  dearly — my  heart  goes  out  to  you  as 
to  my  own  girls — I  care,  we  all  care,  oh,  Dosia!"  in  a  hurt  tone. 
Dosia  was  deeply  touched  and  laid  her  little  hand  on  the  brown, 
hardened  one : 


FROM    BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE    ROOM  203 

"Dear  Mrs.  Brunei*,  forgive  me  if  I  have  seemed  ungrate- 
ful; you  have  indeed  been  a  mother  to  me,  but  tonight  I  am 
so  miserable  that  even  you  cannot  comfort  me." 

"'You  poor  child!  I  have  known  for  some  time  that  you 
were  in  trouble  and  needed  a  mother's  loving  counsel;  confide 
in  me,  dear,  and  let  me  help  you.     Trust  me." 

"I  have  never  told  you  anything  about  myself,  only  that 
I  came  from  New  York  and  had  lost  my  husband  the  past  May. 
Yet  you  have  been  content  to  ask  no  questions  and  have  trusted 
and  loved  me.  I  ought  to  tell  you  more,  but  I  cannot — and  it 
will  be  best  for  me  to  get  lodgings  some  where  else  very  soon," 
bravely  but  tearfully.  How  could  she  bear  to  leave  these  good 
friends?    Oh,  it  was  hard,  she  thought,  yet,  she  must  not  stay. 

"Oh,  you  shall  not  go!"  cried  Hazel,  "what  have  we  done 
to  you?  Mama,  don't  let  her  leave  us."  Mrs.  Brunei*  hesi- 
tated,  then  whispered   in   Dosia's   ear: 

"You  silly  child,  do  you  think  I  do  not  know?  You  need 
never  tell  me  a  word  you  wish  to  keep  secret — we  love  you  for 
what  you  are — for  your  own  self.  You  must  stay  with  us, 
child.  I  will  be  a  mother  to  you  in  the  coming  trial."  Dosia 
threw  her  arms  around  the  good  woman's  neck  and  sobbed : 

"Oh,  do  you  mean  it?  You  know — and  will  stand  by  me — 
will  care  for  me  in  my  hour  of  need?  How  good  you  are!  and 
I  don't  deserve  it." 

"Dear,  what  are  friends  for?  what  are  they  worth  if  they 
do  not  stand  true  to  each  other  in  rain  or  shine?  Why,  to 
know  that  you  are  in  trouble  and  need  me  draws  me  closer  to 
you  with  bands  of  love." 

"Oh,  how  blind  to  your  goodness  I  have  been!  I  have  felt 
for  some  time  that  I  ought  to  tell  you  all  about  myself  and  how 
I  came  to  leave  New  York,  but  I  have  not  the  moral  courage, 
and  felt  that  I  must  leave  you.  But  believe  me,  I  may  have 
been  very  foolish  and  indiscreet,  but  have  never  been  guilty  of 
anything — "   she   paused   in   confusion. 

"Say  no  more,  Mrs.  Gray — nothing  could  change  our  love 
for  you,"  declared  Mrs.  Bruner  warmly.  "No  indeed,"  added 
Hazel. 

"Bless  you  both !  How  grateful  I  am — how  very  fortunate 
I  have  been.  Surely  a  kind  Providence  must  have  directed  my 
footsteps  and  led  me  to  you !  And  I  thought  I  must  leave  you. 
Oh,  Mrs.   Brunei*,   ever  since  you  read  the  beautiful   story  of 


204  FROM   BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE   ROOM 

Ruth  some  time  ago,  my  heart  has  been  crying  out  to  you  in 
her  words,  'Entreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  fol- 
lowing after  thee'." 

"Finish  the  verse  dear — speaking  from  your  heart,"  softly 
urged  Mrs.  Bruner,  "and  say:  'and  thy  God,  shall  be  my  God'." 

"I  wish  I  could — I  am  trying,"  humbly,  then  abruptly  she 
sprang  up,  "Good  night,  dear  friends,  till  tomorrow."  And 
she  went  hurriedly  to  her  room,  leaving  mother  and  daughter 
seated  on  the  steps. 

CHAPTER  XI 

"We  only  feel  the  pain  His  chastenings  give; 
The  sharp  incisions  only  can  we  see. 
And  He  alone,  by  whom  we  move  and  live, 
He  sees  the  hidden  glory  that  shall  be." 

In  the  privacy  of  her  own  room,  Dosia  knelt  at  the  open 
window,  and  gazed  as  if  entranced  at  the  beautiful  full  moon 
now  high  in  the  heavens  and  bathing  the  earth  in  glorious, 
silvery  radiance.  Unconsciously  she  quoted  a  verse  of  scripture 
she  had  heard  Mrs.  Bruner  read : 

"The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament 
showeth  His  handiwork."  Yes,  there  really  was  a  God,  and 
it  must  be  as  Mrs.  Evans  declared — he  was  having  the  angels 
to  guard  her.  How  good  Mrs.  Bruner  was  to  want  to  keep 
and  care  for  her!  What  would  Jack  do  and  say  if  he  knew? — 
and  she  might  die — what  then? — and  perhaps  leave  a  mother- 
less little  child  to — oh.  she  could  not  bear  to  think!  What  must 
she  do?  Again  there  rang  in  her  ears  that  insult  that  was  be- 
yond pardon:  "God!  with  out  a  mighty  reformation  in  your 
character,  you  should  never  have  charge  of  a  child  of  mine." 
But  hadn't  she  reformed?  When  she  had  left  Jack  in  anger, 
she  had  determined  to  say  good  bye  to  the  past — to  forget  it 
all  and  live  free  as  the  birds.  Why  was  it  that  she  had  felt  no 
inclination  for  "society?"  How  was  it  that  she  now  hated 
the  things  she  once  loved?  When  had  she  awakened  to  a  reali- 
zation of  the  dangerous  path  she  was  treading?  Was  it  when 
in  the  solitude  of  that  Washington  hotel  she  had  read  Jack's 
penitent  and  loving  note?  Or  was  it  when  she  had  found  that 
DuBoise  had  followed  her?     She  did  not  know — she  only  knew 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  205 

that  she  was  miserable  oh,  so  miserable,  in  spite  of  these  good 
and  kind  friends. 

Did  she  wish  to  return  to  Jack?  If  everything  turned 
out  well — if  she  should  survive  the  coming  ordeal  and  the  little 
child  should  live,  would  it  not  be  her  plain,  positive  and  im- 
perative duty  to  see  that  it  had  its  rights  as  Jack's  child?  But 
no,  ten  thousand  times  no!  Jack  should  never  know — she 
would  never  forgive  him  the  terrible  insults  he  had  heaped 
upon  her,  no  never !  Poor  girl !  when  love  began  to  plead,  she 
always  called  pride  to  the  rescue. 

"Whatever  can  be  the  matter  with  me?  I  don't  want  to 
go  back  to  New  York — I  could  never  forgive  Jack  and  he 
could  never  forgive  me  for  running  away  and  bringing  disgrace 
to  his  name.  No  *  but  what  is  it  that  so  fills  my  soul  with  un- 
utterable longing?  Am  I,  thirsting  after  'righteousness'? 
Then  why  am  I  not  'filled?'  as  the  scriptures  promises.  Poor 
misguided  girl.  How  could  peace  and  rest  come  to  one  whose 
heart  was  bitter  and  unforgiving?  She  had  yet  to  learn  that 
God  will  "forgive  our  trespasses  as  (just  like)  we  forgive 
those  who  trespass   against  us." 

She  opened  her  diary  and  wrote  till  far  into  the  night,  and 
it  was  early  morning  ere  the  great  sad  brown  eyes  were  closed 
in  sleep. 

Next  day  was  Sunday.  The  girls  and  Tom  went  to  church, 
but  Mrs.  Mrs.  Brunei*  was  a  little  indisposed,  and  remained  at 
home  with  Dosia,  and  they  were  very  happy  together,  for  all 
Dosia's  haughty  reserve  was  gone. 

She  even  showed  Jack's  picture  to  the  good  woman,  who 
declared  positively  she  had  never  looked  upon  a  more  hand- 
some face,  and  did  not  wonder  that  Dosia  should  be  heart 
broken,  for  he  must  have  been  a  noble  man  with  those  stead- 
fast eyes  and  firm  lips. 

Dosia  was  almost  ready  to  lay  bare  every  secret  of  her 
heart,  when  they  were  interrupted  by  the  return  of  the  girls 
and  Tom. 

Tom,  boy  like,  came  to  the  dining  room  at  once  and  took 
a  seat  near  Dosia,  who  was  watching  Mrs.  Bruner  with  in- 
terest as  she  put  dinner  on  the  table,  chatting  cheerfully  all 
the  while. 

"Mama,  Hazel  joined  the  church  today,"  remarked  Tom. 

"Did  she?"  eagerly.     "Well,  I  thought  she  would,  from  a 


206  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

talk  we  had  last  night.     I  am  sure  she  has  been  genuinely  con-, 
verted.     I  am  so  glad  she  is  satisfied — she  was  a  little  doubtful 
last  night,"  and  there  was  a  happy  smile  on  the  mother's  face 
far  more  eloquent  than  words.     After  a  few  moments  silence 
Tom  changed  the  subject: 

"Mama,  have  you  any  stamps  on  hand?  I  didn't  know  I 
was  out — and  I  have  some  letters  to  mail,"  taking  a  bunch  of 
letters  from  his  pocket  with  an  air  of  importance. 

"I  think  I  have  a  few.  I  declare,  Tom,  you  will  soon  have 
to  buy  a  type  writer  and  get  a  corresponding  secretary — won't 
you?"  laughing.  "Why,  dear,"  turning  to  Dosia,  "he  gets  more 
mail  than  all  of  us  put  together.  He  quit  cigarettes  ,so  he 
would  have  money  for  stamps,  and  mercy  me!  there's  no  tell- 
ing how  much  his  stationery  costs." 

Dosia  smiled  appreciatively  and  Tom  became  confidential: 

"I've  got  two  more  pretty  girls  to  add  to  my  collection," 
taking  two  little  penny  photos  from  his  pocket  and  holding 
them  out  to  Dosia. 

"Those  are  pretty,  certainly,"  she  said,  "whose  are  they 
Tom?" 

"Oh,  now,  I  mustn't  tell  that,"  laughed  Tom  teasingly. 

"You  spoke  of  a  collection;  how  many  have  you?" 

"Oh,  about  a  quart." 

"Mercy!  a  quart  of  those  little  stamp  photographs?" 

"He's  been  collecting  them  nearly  a  year  and  gets  them 
nearly  every  day,  I  think,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Bruner.  "Isn't  he 
terrible  to  be  so  young?  Sometimes  I  catch  him  with  them 
spread  all  over  the  bed,  and  he  looking  at  them  so  earnestly, 
that  I  wonder  if  he  is  selecting  a  future  daughter-in-law  for 
me." 

"You  see,  Mrs.  Gray, — it's  this  way;  there's  a  page  for 
young  folks  in  a  little  magazine  I  take,  and  through  that,  we 
get  acquainted  by  mail,  exchange  pictures  and  correspond,  and 
do  other  things  for  pleasure  and  mutual  benefit.  Some  want 
scenery,  and  by  exchanging  kodak  pictures,  we  learn  a  lot 
about  places  we  have  never  seen." 

"But  you  make  a  specialty  of  pretty  faces?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  the  only  kid  that's  doing  the  same.  But 
honest,  now,  the  snap  shot  I  took  of  you  and  Hazel  last  July 
is  the  prettiest  I  have  seen.    A  fellow  in  Ohio  is  making  a  col- 


FROM    BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE    ROOM  207 

lection  of  girls  who  have  brown  hair  and  eyes.  He  offers  a 
prize  for  the  prettiest  photo — or  for  a  photo  of  the  prettiest 
girl,  and  I've  been  tempted  to  send  him  yours  and  Hazel's." 

"Oh,  no  Tom,  please  don't  do  that.  We  should  not  want 
a  stranger  to  have  our  pictures,"  objected  Dosia.  Tom  raised 
a  pair  of  half  frightened  eyes:  "Why  not?  It  could  do  no 
harm — and  that  ten  dollar  prize  would  be  mine.  You'd  surely 
win  it,"  in  confusion. 

"But  you  musn't  think  of  such  a  thing,  Tom,"  said  his 
mother. 

"But,  mama,'  please  tell  me — would  there  be  anything 
wrong  or  improper  about  it?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Why,  my  son,  there  are  lots  of  girls  who  couldn't  bear 
for  a  likeness  of  theirs  to  be  in  the  hands  of  a  stranger.  And 
then  the  fellow  might  be  up  to  some  mischief  or  villiany. 
Innocent  girls  are  often  drugged,  kidnapped  and  forcibly  con- 
fined in  dreadful  dens  of  vice  for  no  other  reason  than  that 
they  are  pretty  and  attractive."  Tom's  face  grew  pale  and  he 
gazed  thoughtfully  out  at  the  window.  Dosia,  wishing  to 
chase  the  cloud  from  his  brow  said  softly; 

"I  am  not  unmindful  of  the  compliment  you  have  paid 
me  Tom,  and  I  hope  you  don't  think  me  silly." 

"I  couldn't  think  any  thing  like  that  of  you,  Mrs.  Gray. 
But  I  am  sure  James  Alexander  is  a  boy  like  myself,  and  is 
making  the  collection  for  fun  and  the  interest  of  it." 

"Strange  that  only  brown  hair  and  eyes  appeal  to  him," 
musingly. 

"Yes,  but  he  explained  that  by  saying  his  mother  had 
brown  eyes  and  hair — that  she  had  been  dead  several  years, 
and  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  he  had  ever  seen.  That's 
why  he  is  interested  in  no  other  colors." 

Lilly  and  Hazel  now  came  in  with  their  arms  around  each 
other  making  a  lovely  picture.  Mrs.  Bruner  looked  up  with 
a  bright  smile  of  welcome,  and  Hazel  came  to  her  and  quietly 
said : 

"I  took  the  decisive  step,  mama,  and  am  so  happy — just 
as  you  said  I'd  be.    I  am  sorry  I  didn't  do  it  long  ago." 

"Bless  your  heart,  my  daughter,  you  have  made  me  re- 
joice today,"  was  all  that  Mrs.  Bruner  could  say,  as  she  kissed 
Hazel  tenderly.     Then  Hazel  crossed  over  to  Tom  and  Dosia, 


208  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

kissing  each  affectionately,  but  speaking  not  a  word.  'Twas 
a  sweet  silent,  sacred  communion  of  hearts,  and  as  they  all 
gathered  around  the  table,  each  felt  impressed  that  this  was 
a  solemn  occasion. .  Mrs.  Bruner  returned  thanks  and  asked  a 
special  blessing  upon  the  new  convert,  and  prayed  that  it  might 
not  be  long  before  every  member  of  the  household,  should  find 
that  peace  which  passeth  all  understanding. 

CHAPTER  XII 

When  dinner  was  over,  Tom  insisted  on  every  one  "get- 
ting out"  and  letting  him  clear  the  table  and  wash  the  dishes. 
And  while  thus  engaged  the  poor  boy  was  deep  in  miserable 
thought.  The  fact  was,  he  had  already  sent  that  picture  and 
now  was  oppressed  by  guilt  and  fear.  What  must  he  do?  He 
hated  deception,  but  if  he  should  confess — what  good  could 
that  do?  That  would  not  bring  the  pictures  back — his  mother 
would  be  angry,  and  Mrs.  Gray  grieved  and  all  to  no  avail. 
Tom  didn't  believe  that  James  Alexander  was  an  adventurer, 
or  that  Mrs.  Gray  and  Hazel  were  in  danger  of  being  kid- 
napped; but  to  think  he  had  done  something  so  against  his 
mother's  wishes  and  those  of  the  sad,  pale-faced  little  widow 
who  looked  as  if  she  had  had  enough  of  trouble,  made  the  poor, 
sensitive,  tender  hearted  boy  very  miserable.  Suddenly  he 
had  a  bright  idea.  He  would  write  to  James  Alexander  and 
ask  that  the  pictures  be  returned,  explaining  that  his  mother 
objected  to  a  stranger  having  her  daughter's  picture. 

The  letter  was  written  and  mailed  that  afternoon,  and 
thus  poor  Tom  played  into  the  hands  of  Fate. 

Mrs.  Bruner  insisted  that  Dosia  quit  the  mill,  declaring 
that  tight  lacing  would  kill  her,  and  that  she  must  now  lay 
pride  aside  for  a  time  and  take  reason  and  common  sense  for 
her  guides.  Dosia  listened  to  the  good  woman's  advice,  and 
now  at  the  end  of  three  weeks,  had  been  a  daily  companion  to 
Mrs.  Bruner,  and  they  learned  to  love  each  other  more  and 
more  devotedly.  It  was  about  the  middle  of  October  that 
Dosia  paid  her  board  two  months  in  advance  and  placed  five 
hundred  dollars  in  Mrs.  Bruner's  hands,  asking  her  to  see 
after  everything — confessing  her  own  ignorance  concerning 
the  things  she  should  know.     Mrs.  Bruner  gasped  in  astonish- 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  209 

merit.  She  had  supposed  that  Dosia  only  had  what  she  had 
saved  the  past  four  months. 

But  she  was  too  well  bred  to  ask  questions,  even  when 
Dosia  directed  her  to  spare  no  expense,  declaring  that  the 
money  should  be  forthcoming.  Dosia  also  placed  a  large  sealed 
package  in  the  good  woman's  hand  saying: 

"If  I  die,  break  this  seal  and  follow  directions  inside.  This 
contains  my  will  and  some  letters — also  my  diary,  with  full 
directions  how  to  proceed.  If  I  live,  keep  this  package  till  I 
am  able  to  receive  it  again."  And  Mrs.  Bruner,  puzzled  and 
amazed,  sacredly  promised. 

As  time  passed  on,  uneventfully  in  this  quiet  home,  Dosia 
became  more  and  more  despondent  and  a  look  in  her  pale  face 
was  almost  enough  to  melt  one  to  tears.  Dr.  Ross  came  almost 
daily,  declaring  her  to  be  in  perfect  health  and  trying  in  many 
ways  to  cheer  her  shrinking  spirit.  Dosia  felt  that  she  must 
die  and  was  almost  glad.  In  vain  they  tried  to  cheer  her — 
tried  to  banish  these  morbid  ideas — but  she  invariably  re- 
plied, "I'm  almost  sure  I  shall  die." 

In  the  meantime,  Tom  had  been  looking  now  for  several 
days  for  a  letter  from  James  Alexander.  But  not  a  word,  not 
a  line,  had  he  received,  and  here  it  was  the  middle  of  Novem- 
ber, and  beautiful  weather.  It  was  cold  during  the  mornings, 
but  pleasant  in  the  afternoons  and  one  evening  Mrs.  Bruner 
and  Dosia  were  "sunning"  on  the  front  porch,  and  looking 
over  the  daily  papers,  when  a  country  boy  came  bashfully 
up  the  walk,  a  large  bundle  under  one  arm  and  a  basket  of 
apples  on  the  other.  He  wore  plain  coarse  shoes,  blue  over- 
alls and  a  large  slouched  hat  pulled  well  over  his  face,  as  if 
ashamed  of  his  freckles. 

"Do  ye  want  some  apples,  ma'am?"  speaking  to  Mrs. 
Bruner.  "Only  fifteen  cents  a  dozen,"  in  a  cracked  voice  and 
sinking  to  a  seat  on  the  steps  as  Mrs.  Bruner  examined  the 
fruit.  His  back  was  to  Dosia,  and  the  big  hat  almost  com- 
pletely hid  him,  but  she  could  see  from  the  quick  way  he 
breathed  that  the  boy  was  very  tired. 

"Why,  these  are  fine,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bruner,  "what  do 
you  ask  for  the  whole  basket?  I  see  you  are  tired  and  I'll  take 
them  all." 

"I  dunno — I  reckin  they's  worth  a  quarter,"  stupidly. 


210  FROM    BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE    ROOM 

"I'll  give  you  half  a  dollar."  And  she  took  the  money 
from  her  pocket  and  paid  him  and  asked  him  to  pour  the  apples 
in  her  apron. 

"Thanky,  ma'am,  an'  good  bye,"  said  the  boy  as  he  took 
the  money  in  a  dirty  freckled  hand  and  shuffled  away.  Mrs. 
Bruner  counted  the  apples  and  found  that  she  had  four  and  a 
half  dozen,  and  was  sorry  she  had  not  paid  the  boy  more. 

"I  think  he  really  needed  it,"  she  said  regretfully,  looking 
down  the  street  in  the  direction  he  had  gone. 

"Most  people  would  have  paid  him  a  quarter  and  bragged 
over  the  bargain,  I  think,"  remarked  Dosia  seriously. 

"Yes,  perhaps;  but  I  always  wish  to  do  the  right  thing, 
and  if  I  make  a  mistake,  it  is  of  the  head  and  not  the  heart." 
And  Dosia  found  much  food  for  reflection  in  the  answer.  Her 
mistakes  had  all  been  of  the  head  she  thought.  If  she  had  lis- 
tened to  the  promptings  of  her  heart  and  better  nature,  life 
would  not  be  a  burden  now.     But  it  was  too  late. 

The  boy  was  out  of  sight  and  soon  was  in  an  empty  car 
box  near  the  depot,  hurriedly  shedding  the  overalls  and 
slouched  hat,  and  taking  a  nice  suit,  including  hat,  collar  and 
tie  from  the  huge  bundle  he  carried,  wiping  the  dirt  from  his 
face  and  hands  before  coming  out,  looking  altogether  a  differ- 
ent creature.  He  put  his  finger  to  his  lips  and  gave  a  sharp 
whistle,  and  attracted  the  attention  of  a  colored  boy  in  rags, 
who  came  forward  hesitatingly : 

"Look  inside  here,  nigger,  and  you  will  find  a  good  pair 
of  shoes  and  some  overalls." 

"Thankee  sir,  thankee  sir.  Nobody  won't  run  me  in  if  I  get 
'em,  boss?"  half  fearfully. 

"No —  they  were  mine,"  and  there  was  a  triumphant  ring 
in  the  boy's  voice.  His  hands  trembled  with  excitement  and 
a  joyous  light  was  shining  in  the  deep  blue  eyes.  Under  his 
breath  he  was  ejaculating: 

"Ope  whiz!  Glory  to  Moses!  Golly!  I'm  it!  That  lub- 
ber heal  shall  have  his  picture  back  and  the  prize  shall  be 
doubled.  What  do  I  want  with  that  little  old  picture  when  I'm 
going  to  have  the  glorious  original?  Well,  I'll  be  confounded! 
Ain't  this  a  slick  piece  of  work?  Nick  Carter  himself  couldn't 
have  done  the  thing  slicker.  Whoopee!  wish  I  could  stand  on 
my  head!  But  good  Lord!  what  must  I  do  next?  I  have  no 
idea  where  to  find  my  boss      In  an  asylum  somewhere  apt  as 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  2ll 

not;  but  he  said  when  I  left  him  that  he  was  thinking  of  run- 
ning back  to  New  York  to  see  Dr.  Brown.  I  know — I'll  tele- 
graph Dr.  Brown  and  he  will  know  what  to  do.  Gee!  don't 
I  wish  I  could  break  the  news  to  him  myself."  And  our  own 
Jimmie  Carter — James  Alexander  Carter — was  soon  in 
Wright's  hotel  where  he  already  had  a  room,  and  was  cutting 
all  kind  of  antics,  and  trying  to  word  a  telegram  to  Dr.  Brown. 

He  wrote  and  re-wrote  but  at  last  decided  on  the  follow- 
ing: 

"The  lost  is  found  but  doesn't  know  it.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances I  am  afraid  to  approach  her.    Bring  Mr.  Jack. 

"Jimmie  Carter." 

That  was  on  Wednesday.  Jimmie  knew  that  if  Jack 
should  happen  to  be  in  New  York  and  with  Dr.  Brown,  it  would 
be  at  least  Saturday  afternoon  before  they  could  reach  Co- 
lumbia. In  the  meantime  he  would  pass  the  time  as  best  he 
could,  viewing  the  city. 

He  went  to  moving  picture  shows,  to  the  theatre,  and  to 
the  park;  he  rode,  read,  ate  and  slept,  but  still  time  dragged. 
Thursday  night  he  received  an  answer  to  his  telegram : 

"Jack  just  arrived.  Not  well  but  able  to  travel.  Get  there 
Saturday  nisrht. 

"Brown." 

Friday  Jimmie  visited  the  cotton  mills ;  he  walked  all 
through  the  weave-room  where  Tom  and  Hazel  worked.  He 
soon  saw  Hazel  and  knew  her  by  the  picture  he  had  of  her. 
He  saw  Tom,  and  knew  him  by  his  likeness  to  Hazel,  and  as  he 
passed  Tom's  looms  he  tipped  his  hat  and  smiled,  leaving  Tom 
puzzled,  and  wondering  who  he  could  be. 

The  mills  always  shut  down  at  noon  on  Saturday,  till 
Monday.  And  on  this  particular  Saturday,  when  the  girls  and 
Tom  went  home,  they  found  the  Doctor's  automobile  standing 
in  the  front  yard,  the  dinner  was  not  done,  and  everything 
seemingly   in   confusion. 

Lilly  and  Hazel  looked  at  each  other  with  pale  faces  and 
wide  frightened  eyes.  Tom  gave  a  low  whistle  of  dismay,  but 
no  one  spoke  a  word.  The  girls  finished  dinner,  and  Mrs. 
Bruner  ran  down  to  tell  them  to  hurry  and  dress  and  go  to 
their  uncles — all  of  them. 

There  was  a  whispered  consultation  between  the  mother 


212  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

and  daughters,  and  Tom  waylaid  the  little  woman  as  she 
started  upstairs : 

"Mother,  maybe— perhaps — do— do  you  think  you  won't 
need  me  for  anything?  I'll  stay  around  in  hearing  if — if  I  can 
be  of  any  service." 

"No,  dear — you  are  very  thoughtful,  but  I'd  rather  you 
would  go  with  your  sisters.  And  don't  any  of  you  return  till  I 
send  for  you." 

"All  right,  mother;  but — is — is  she  all  right?"  anxiously. 

"Oh,  yes,. the  doctor  and  nurse  say  so,"  she  smiled.  "And, 
Tom,  I  forgot  to  tell  you — there  are  several  letters  on  the  hall 
table  for  you.  Now  hurry  away,  and  if  you  go  to  town  tonight, 
don't  stay  late." 

"No,  mother,  I  won't,"  and  Tom  went  after  his  mail  and 
walked  out  on  the  front  porch  to  examine  it  while  waiting  for 
his  sisters. 

He  noticed  one  addressed  in  a  large  free  boyish  hand,  that 
made  his  heart  leap.  A  letter  from  Jas.  Alexander!  But  ah! 
it  was  mailed  that  very  day  and  right  there  in  Columbia! 
What  could  it  mean?  He  would  see,  and  without  further  par- 
ley he  broke  the  seal: 

"Dear  Mr.  Tom  Bruner: 

"I  have  come  in  person  to  see  you  and  to  return  your  pic- 
tures and  pay  you  the  prize  which  I  promised.  They  are  both 
really  beautiful,  but  one  is  by  far  the  most  beautiful  face  I 
have  ever  seen.  Come  to  the  Union  depot  this  afternoon  at 
about  five  o'clock,  and  keep  mum  concerning  our  business. 
Don't  mention  it  to  a  soul,  if  you  value  your  future  happiness. 
I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  but  will  defer  it  till  we  meet.  Do 
not  fail  me.     This  is  important.     James  Alexander." 

Tom  turned  white  with  dismay.  James  Alexander  in  Co- 
lumbia on  purpose  to  see  him  and  wanted  to  see  him  secretly. 
What  could  it  mean?  Was  it  just  a  ruse  to  get  him  away  from 
home  so  that  the  girls  might  be  kidnapped? 

But  now  the  girls  came  out  hurriedly  and  excitedly,  call- 
ing him  to  "come  on,"  for  it  was  going  to  sleet  or  snow  ere 
long,  it  had  turned  so  cold  and  was  cloudly,  with  the  wind  com- 
ing from  the  North. 

Tom  shoved  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  and  silently  followed 
the  girls.     It  was  now  after  two  o'clock.     He  would  see  his  sis- 


FROM   BALL   ROOM   TO   WEAVE   ROOM  213 

ters  safely  to  their  uncle's,  and  then  he  would  bruise  around, 
sharpen  his  wits  and  his  knife,  and  be  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency. Tom  was  glad  that  the  girls  were  going  to  where  two 
big  and  ferocious  bull  dogs  ran  loose  on  the  grounds  which  sur- 
rounded the  house.  He  smiled  grimly  as  he  thought  of  what 
any  one's  fate  would  be  who  attempted  to  go  unattended 
through  his  uncle's  gates. 

When  they  reached  the  front  gate  Tom  said: 

"Now,  girls,  whatever  you  do,  don't  come  out — don't  go 
anywhere  until  I  return  to  escort  you." 

"You  courteous  brother;  but  of  course  we  shall  not  go 
anywhere  at  all.  We  will  remain  here  till  mama  sends  for  us," 
said  Lilly. 

"That  we  will,"  affirmed  Hazel. 

"Well,  bye  bye,  then ;  I'll  get  supper  at  a  lunch  room,  and 
will  not  be  out  late.  Be  good,  and  don't  worry,"  and  he  kissed 
his  hand  to  them  gaily,  and  walked  away,  with  a  curious  pain 
at  his  heart 

CHAPTER  XIII 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Tom  approached  the  Union  depot, 
his  heart  in  his  throat  and  his  eyes  restlessly  searching  the  im- 
mense crowd  for  a  mysterious  person  whom  he  longed  yet 
dreaded  to  see. 

He  wondered  how  on  earth  they  should  meet  and  know 
each  other  and  mentally  decided  that  James  Alexander  was  a 
"blamed  fool,"  Presently  as  he  was  going  up  the  broad  steps 
into  the  waiting  room,  a  nicely  dressed,  pleasant  faced,  red- 
headed boy  ran  after  him,  and  touched  his  arm : 

"Why,  hello,  Tom!  Glad  to  see  you,  old  boy.  Shake!" 
raising  his  hat,  holding  out  a  friendly  hand  and  smiling  joy- 
ously. 

"Sure,"  said  Tom,  greatly  puzzled,  but  grasping  the  out- 
stretched hand  and  doffing  his  cap.  "But  you  have  the  advan- 
tage— I  certainly  don't  have  the  least  idea  whom  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  shaking." 

"What?  Didn't  you  get  my  letter  this  morning?"  Was 
sure  you  had  come  in  answer.  Tom's  mouth  and  eyes  were 
open.     He  gasped. 

"What— who— you?" 

"James  Alexander  at  your  service.     But  come  down  here 


214  FROM    BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE    ROOM 

to  a  quiet  spot  where  we  can  talk,"  pulling  Tom's  arm  through 
his  own  and  walking  to  the  other  end  of  the  platform  where  it 
was  more  deserted. 

"You  were  in  the  mill  the  other  day — " 
"Yes,  and  knew  you  at  once  by  the  photo  of  your  sister," 
laughed  Jimmie. 

I'm  here  on  purpose  to  get  that  photo,"  said  Tom,  stffly. 
"You  shall  have  it.  Gee!  Tom  Bruner,  you  don't  know 
how  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done  for  me.  Do  you  know 
your  fortune  is  made?  Why,  boy,  you  are  sure  to  get  a  cool 
thousand  for  helping  me  out  in  the  neatest  little  piece  of  detec- 
tive work  that  ever  was  accomplished."  Tom  turned  white  and 
looked  squarely  into  Jimmie's  happy  face. 

"What  in  thunder  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded  sharply. 
"I  will  tell  you.  By  sending  me  this  picture,"  (handing  it 
to  Tom)  you  have  been  instrumental  in  the  hands  of  a  kind 
Providence  in  helping  to  reunite  a  loving  husband  and  wife." 
Tom  grasped  the  picture  eagerly  and  twenty  dollars  were 
pressed  into  his  hand  at  the  game  time. 

"Take  back  your  money — I  don't  want  it!  And  you  won't 
get  me  mixed  up  in  your  blamed  spying  business,  either,"  hotly. 
"What  do  you  mean  anyhow? — what  have  I  done?"  indignant, 
but  curious. 

"Easy,  Tom,  easy.  You'll  keep  that  money,  and  you'll  get 
a  lot  more  before  the  show  is  over.  Who  is  the  lady  boarding 
at  your  house? — Bet  you  don't  know!" 

"I  do,  too ;  she  is  Mrs.  Dosia  Gray,  the"  sweetest,  saddest 
little  widow  in  the  whole  wide  world,"  looking  gingerly  at  the 
money  he  held. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Theodosia  Gray  Arlington,  a  rich  woman  and 
wife  of  Mr.  Jack  Arlington  of  New  York,  a  wealthy  lawyer, 
and  my  beloved  employer.  What's  she  staying  and  working  in 
a  mill  town  for  beats  my  eye."  Tom  clenced  his  fists  and 
growled : 

"See  here,  if  you  have  tracked  that  little  woman  down  and 
try  to  bother  her,  the  dickens  will  be  to  pay  and — " 

"Hold  on  Tom,  not  so  fast;  she  will  be  glad  to  see  her  hus- 
band— the  best  man  that  ever  lived.  If  any  two  people  ever 
loved  each  other  they  did,  and  still  do.  Mr.  Jack's  suffered  ten 
thousand  deaths  since  she  left  him  and  has  spent  thousands  on 
top  of  thousands,  trying  to  find  her.     I  know  all  about  it,  Tom, 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  215 

for  I  have  been  with  Mr.  Jack  for  several  years,  and  know  that 
she  will  be  just  as  glad  as  he  is,  to  be  reconciled." 

"What  did  she  leave  him  for? — and  where  is  he  now?" 

"Jealousy.     She  was  a  flirt." 

"Don't  you  lay  the  blame  on  her,"  said  Tom  angrily. 

"Oh,  no.  Mr.  Jack  says  he  alone  was  to  blame,  and  he's 
ready — been  ready  every  since  their  quarrel, — to  eat  dirt  and 
make  all  kind  of  apoligies,"  declared  Jimmie  good  humoredly. 
Mr.  Jack  will  be  in  on  the  next  train,  to  carry  her  back  home," 
enjoying  Tom's  discomfiture. 

"Well,  I  guess  not!"  remarked  Tom  drily. 

"How  do  you  propose  to  prevent  it?"  curiously. 

"I  haven't  got  a  darned  thing  to  do  with  it;  but  golly! 
there  was  a  big  doctor  and  a  fine  nurse  at  home  when  I  left, 
and —  and —  a  stork  sailing  over  the  house,"  grinning. 

"Geemimy!  you  don't  say  so!  Now  ain't  that  a  rum-go? 
The  finest  doctor  in  New  York  is  coming,  with  Mr.  Jack.  Lord 
have  mercy!  Maybe  they  won't  get  to  see  her  tonight  at  all! 
It'll  just  kill  Mr.  Jack  if  he  has  to  wait,  too,"  and  Jimmie  gave 
a  prolonged  whistle.  "Well,  I'll  be  doggone!"  Jimmed  looked 
at  his  watch. 

"It's  half  an  hour  till  their  train  comes,  so  I'll  tell  you 
everything  about  it  When  I  offered  a  prize  for  the  prettiest 
photo,  it  was  with  the  hope  of  getting  one  of  Mrs.  Arlington's. 
I  knew  she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  had  ever  seen,  and 
I  thought  maybe  my  prize  would  induce  some  kid  to  take  a 
snap  shot  at  her,  if  he  should  happen  to  see  her.  I  had  given 
up  getting  a  clue  that  way,  though,  for  I  had  received  in  the 
past  two  months  over  three  thousand  pictures.  Then  I  got 
your  letter,  and  pictures,  and  my  heart  stood  still  when  I  saw 
the  face  I  had  been  looking  for. 

Then  I  read  your  letter,  found  that  you  were  all  mill  peo- 
ple— you  said  'these  girls  weave  in — Cotton  Mill' — and  my 
hopes  fell.  I  was  satisfied  that  it  was  just  a  chance  likeness, 
for  I  never  one  time  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  Mrs.  Arlington 
stopping  in  a  mill  village,  much  less  working  in  a  mill.  The 
more  I  looked  at  the  picture,  the  more  difference  I  could  find 
in  it  and  Mrs.  Arlington.  The  face  was  too  sad  and  melan- 
choly, and  the  eyes  did  not  have  the  same  joyous  expression. 
I  never  thought  of  the  difference  trouble  could  make,  and  dis- 
missed the  whole  thought  from  my  mind.     Mr.  Jack  was  speak- 


216  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

ing  of  returning  to  New  York,  when  I  received  your  second  let- 
ter, demanding  the  return  of  the  pictures,  in  such  a  way  as 
made  me  suspicious.  You  wrote,  that  your  mother,  sister,  and 
all  concerned  objected  to  a  stranger  having  them.  You  did  not 
say,  "sisters,  so  I  began  to  wonder  which  was  your  sister,  and 
who  was  the  other.  It  was  a  small  clue,  and  seemed  an  im- 
possibility, but  I  could  not  bear  to  let  it  slip  without  an  inves- 
tigation. I  would  not  mention  it  to  Mr.  Jack,  for  I  knew  bet- 
ter then  to  raise  hopes  which  must  in  all  probability  be  dashed 
to  the  ground.  I  couldn't  get  the  idea  out  of  my  head.  Some- 
thing urged  me  forward,  and  I  asked  Mr.  Jack  to  give  me  ten 
days  leave  of  absence,  as  I  wanted  to  visit  a  relative  in  Ashe- 
ville,  N.C. 

He  was  surprised,  but  gave  me  seventy-five  dollars,  and 
told  me  to  wire  him  if  I  needed  more.  Oh,  he  is  the  best  man 
living!  He  had  an  invitation  to  go  out  in  the  country  on  a 
hunting  trip,  and  I  begged  him  to  accept,  which  he  did,  saying 
that  when  he  was  tired  of  it,  he  would  run  back  to  New  York 
for  a  day  or  two — something  he  hasn't  done  since  he  left  to 
search  for  his  wife.  You  ought  to  have  seen  how  he  hated  to 
part  with  me,  even  for  ten  days.  He  said  when  he  saw  me  off : 
"Jimmie,  I'm  sure  she  isn't  down  that  way,  but  keep  your  eyes 
open,  and  if  you  get  the  least  clue  let  me  know.  But,  oh,  I  have 
about  decided  that  my  darling  is  dead." 

"Then  he  said,  'Jimmy,  I  don't  know  how  I'm  going  to 
stand  it  without  you.  But  I  know  you  are  tired  of  being  tied  to 
such  an  old  glum  and  silent,  sorrowful  man.  Have  a  good  time 
while  you  are  gone,  but  don't  stajT  over  ten  days  my  boy,  for 
you  are  all  I  have.'  I  tell  you  Tom,  that  went  to  my  heart — 
and  me  deceiving  him  that  way. 

"I  got  to  Columbia  last  Tuesday  night,  and  engaged  a 
room  at  Wright's  Hotel.  Then  I  bruised  around  till  I  found 
your  address,  and  L  diked  up  in  a  country-boy  outfit,  took  a 
basket  of  apples  and  went  to  your  house  and  sold  them  to  one 
of  the  sweetest  little  gray-haired  women  I  ever  laid  eyes  on." 

"My  mother,"  murmured  Tom  in  astonishment. 

"And  I  got  a  good  look  at  Mrs.  Arlington,  and  knew  her, 
but  took  good  care  she  didn't  have  a  good  view  of  my  freckled 
face."  Jimmie  laughed.  "Tom,  I  felt  like  shouting  'Halle- 
luyer!'  I  don't  know  how  I  kept  from  giving  myself  away,  but 
— er — you    see — I — under    the    circumstances — I    was    almost 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  217 

skeered  to  death  for  her — seeing  how  she  was.  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do,  but  to  lie  low  till  her  doctor  and  Mr.  Jack  come. 
You  may  bet  I  lost  no  time  sending  a  telegram  to  Doctor 
Brown,  who  has  been  trying  to  help  Mr.  Jack  to  find\  his  wife, 
and  always  knows  just  where  to  find  the  poor  fellow. 

"The  other  day  when  I  walked  through  the  mill  and  saw 
you,  I  just  wanted  to  stop  and  hug  you  for  what  you  had  done. 
I  was  just  crazy  to  tell  you  everything,  but  didn't  know  how 
you  would  take  it,  and  thought  I'd  not  run  any  risk  till  too  late 
for  you  to  kick.  But  old  boy,  you'll  be  happy  as  I  am  when 
you  see  the  good  you  have  done." 

Tom  looked  excited  and  interested :  "Gee !  you  are  up  to 
Nick  Carter  ain't  you?  And  you  are  just  a  boy  like  me.  My!" 
Jimmie  laughed : 

.  "That  reminds  me — my  name  is  Carter.  Alexander  is 
just  my  middle  name.  And  Tom,  you  and  I  are  going  to  be  the 
best  of  friends." 

"Yes.  that  we  will,  if  everything  turns  out  as  you  expect," 
replied  Tom,  half  doubtfully. 

Above  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  busy  city,  sounded  the 
distant  whistle  of  a  locomotive.     Jimmie  sprang  up  eagerly: 

"That's  their  train !  and  oh,  Lord,  help  poor  Mr.  Jack  if 
he  has  to  wait  still  longer!  How  can  I  tell  him?  Tom  you've 
got  to  help  me  break  the  news.  I'm  afraid  he  can't  stand  it. 
Lord !  I'm  glad  Doctor  Brown  is  coming."  And  Jimmie  pulled 
Tom's  arm  through  his  own  again,  and  hurried  out  on  the 
yard,  both  trembling  with  excitement. 

"I  don't  want  anything  more  to  do  with  this,"  demurred 
Tom.  "I'll  never  get  over  it  if  harm  comes  to  Mrs.  Gray — 
and  by  ginger,  if  harm  does  come  to  her,  somebody  will  get 
hurt— that's  all!" 

"Pshaw!  Stop  croaking  and  rejoice,  I  tell  you.  You'll 
be  happy  when  you  understand."  As  the  train  pulled  in  Tom 
found  himself  infected  with  Jimmie's  eagerness,  and  anxiously 
watching  for — he  knew  not  whom. 

"There  they  are!"  and  Jimmie,  pushing  and  shoving  right 
and  left,  and  pulling  Tom  along  with  him,  made  his  way  to  a 
tall,  broadshouldered,  pale-faced  but  very  handsome  man,  who, 
arm  in  arm  with  portly,  merry-eyed,  jolly-faced  old  gentleman, 
was  slowly  wending  his  way  toward  the  station,  each  glancing 
eagerly  right  and  left  for  Jimmie's  red  head  and  freckled  face. 


21S  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

"Here  I  am,  Mr.  Jack,"  spoke  Jimmie,  hurrying  to  his  be- 
loved friend  who  caught  him  by  both  hands  and  bent  eagerly 
forward  to  gaze  in  the  honest  blue  eyes. 

"Jimmie,  my  boy!  where  is  she?"  in  a  low  tense  voice. 
Tom's  heart  was  at  once  captured  and  the  tears  almost  came 
to  his  eyes. 

"She's  all  right,  Mr.  Jack,  and  doesn't  know  that  she  is 
found,  so  don't  worry — wait  a  little  longer.  How  are  you  doc- 
tor? This  is  my  friend,  Mr.  Tom  Bruner,  Doctor  Brown — Mr. 
Arlington,"  introducing  Tom — "the  gentleman  to  whom  we 
owe  this .  happy  occasion,"   added  Jimmie  graciously. 

"I'm  all  in  the  dark,  but  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Bruner,"  said 
Jack,  warmly  shaking  hands.  The  doctor,  too,  was  very  much 
pleased  with  Tom. 

"Supper  is  ready  for  us — it  is  past  six — so  we  will  go  up 
to  the  hotel  and  I'll  tell  you  everything  I  know,  and  leave  the 
rest  to  you  and  the  doctor."  said  Jimmie. 

"Supper?  Good  God!  Jimmie,  you  talk  to  me  about  sup- 
per? Take  me  to  her!  Every  moment  is  an  eternity!"  groan- 
ed Jack,  forgetting  the  crowd. 

"But,  Mr.  Jack,"  cautioned  Jimmie,  "you  must  not  rush 
on  her  so  unexpectedly.  She  couldn't  bear  the  shock.  For  her 
sake,  be  patient,  and — and — after  you  understand  you  will  be 
glad,  and  will  follow  the  advice  of  good  Doctor  Brown.  Doc- 
tor Brown  glanced  inquiringly  at  Jimmie. 

"Jimmie!  is  she  ill?"  cried  Jack  almost  wildly. 

"Now,  just  look  how  you  jump  at  conclusions;  I  saw  her 
yesterday  and  she  was  the  very  picture  of  health,"  Jimmie 
had  led  the  way  to  a  carriage  while  speaking,  and  giving  the 
doctor  a  look  of  appeal  and  entreaty,  they  persuaded  the  half 
distracted  man  to  enter  it. 

"Hop  in  Tom,  you  are  going  to  take  supper  with  us." 

"No,  I  thank  you,— I—" 

"Come  right  on,  now,  Tom, — you  must.  I  need  you,"  and 
Tom,  who  really  did  wish  to  go,  sprang  in  with.  Jimmie,  feel- 
ing that  he  was  having  a  finger  in  this  "pie,"  and  hoping  that 
everything  would  indeed  turn  out  best  for  the  little  woman  at 
home. 


FROM    BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE    ROOM  219 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Pretty  soon  they  were  all  in  Wright's  Hotel,  where  Jimmy 
had  already  engaged  rooms  for  them,  and  were  soon  listening 
eagerly  to  Jimmie's  account  of  his  "detective"  work.  He  wound 
up  by  saying: 

"And  I  found  that  the  picture  really  was  hers — and  I  found 
her — but  she  is  not  weaving  at  present," 

"Good  heavens!  weaving?  my  beautiful  Theo — an  heiress 
in  her  own  right — my  wife,  weaving!  Working  in  a  cotton  mill 
for  a  living?"  and  Jack  sprang  to  his  feet.  "She  must  have  lost 
her  money,  poor  child,"  his  lips  quivering  pietously.  "Oh,  for 
God's  sake,  hurry  and  let  me  go  to  her.  She  must  not  stay 
there  another  hour.    In  a  factory  town  and  weaving,  God!" 

Tom's  face  flushed;  he  felt  that  the  man  was  one  of  those 
who  "looked  down"  on  mill  people,  and  he  spoke  indignantly: 

"Sir,  she  is  with  my  mother,  a  perfect  lady  if  there  ever 
was  one,  and  my  sisters  are  the  equal  of  any  queen.  Any  in- 
sinuations or  slurs  cast  at  factory  people  touch  a  tender  spot 
with  me." 

"Pardon,  my  boy,  I  meant  no  wrong — I  know  there  are 
good  people  everywhere — but  my  darling  never  worked  a 
moment  in  her  life  before,  and  oh,  to  think  that  she  toiled,  slaved, 
rather  than  come  back  to  me — or  ask  my  help,  when  I  would 
so  gladly  have  died  for  her !" 

"I  don't  think  she  needed  to  work  sir,  but  did  it  from  choice 
— to  pass  off  time.    She  was  happier  when  busy,"  said  Tom. 

"And  she  was  unhappy,  too.  Poor  little  proud  Theo,  to 
think  of  her  tender  white  hands  being  blistered  and  bruised 
with  toil.  Take  me  to  her — what  are  you  waiting  for?"  reaching 
for  his  hat  with  an  air  of  determination.  Jimmie  had  been 
whispering  something  to  the  doctor,  whose  jolly  red  face  became 
serious  and  pale. 

Laying  a  restraining  hand  on  Jack's  arm,  the  doctor  now 
spoke  gravely : 

"Jack,  do  you  remember  that  Jimmie's  telegram  said,  'under 
the  circumstances'  he  was  afraid  to  make  another  move?  And 
do  you  remember  what  Theo  said  to  you — the  question  she  so 
timidly  asked  you  during  your  last  interview?"  The  doctor 
looked  squarely  into  Jacks  face.    "Don't  you  understand?" 

"  'Under  the  circumstances,'  Jimmie  said.     Doctor !     Good 


220  FROM    BALL   ROOM    TO   WEAVE   ROOM 

God!  what  do  you  mean?  My  darling's  question  rings  in  my 
ears  day  and  night.  What  do  you  mean?  Why  don't  you  take 
me  to  her?  Speak!  I  will  not  wait  longer,"  and  they  saw  that 
he  was  indeed  desperate  and  half  mad  with  impatience. 

Jimmie  looked  at  Tom  appealingly,  but  he  shrank  back 
bashfully.  Then  Jimmie,  throwing  an  arm  around  Jack's  neck 
affectionately,  drew  his  head  down  and  whispered: 

"Oh,  Mr.  Jack,  Tom  says  when  he  left  the  house  that  there 
was  a  big  doctor  and  a  nurse  with  her,  and — and — a  stork 
sailing  around,"  and  Jack  stared  with  white  face  and  despairing 
eyes  into  Jimmie's  face,  then  looked  at  the  doctor  as  if  unable  to 
comprehend ;  then  sinking  helplessly  into  the  chair  that  Tom 
slipped  under  him,  he  groaned  in  anguish: 

"God  forgive  me — oh,  God,  forgive  me!  I  drove  her  away 
— dear  little  woman — oh,  I  can't  bear  this  suspense,  doctor !  We 
must  go  to  her.  You  are  her  doctor, — I  am  her  husband — what 
if  she  should  die  and  never  know  that  we  had  come?" 

Jimmie  was  watching  Jack  with  much  concern  and  anxiety. 
Tom  was  idly  drumming  on  the  window  pane  and  looking  out 
through  the  window,  torn  with  conflicting  emotions.  What 
would  his  mother  think  of  or  say  to  him  about  the  part  he  had 
played  in  this?    The  doctor  spoke  again  : 

"Jack,  if  you  will  promise  to  do  nothing  rash — if  you  will 
be  guided  by  reason  and  common  sense,  we  will  go  and  see 
where  she  lives  and  perhaps  we  can  manage  to  hear  how  she  is 
— but  we  can't  intrude,  now  you  know  that." 

"I'll  promise  anything — only  let  me  see  where  she  lives — 
let  me  see  the  roof  that  shelters  my  darling — let  me  know  she 
is  not  dead." 

Jimmie  turned  to  Tom  eagerly: 

"Perhaps  you  could  manage  to  see  your  mother  quietly, 
and  slip  out  to  us  with  the  latest  news?    Don't  you  think  so?" 

"I  might — but — yes,  I'll  do  anything  I  can  for  Mr.  Arling- 
ton," as  he  saw  the  man's  agonized  look  of  appeal. 

So  not  waiting  for  supper,  the  four  went  out  and  boarded 
a  car,  which,  after  going  many  crooks  and  curves,  dropped 
them  in  the  mill  town  near  the  "Company  Store,"  from  which 
they  walked,  indifferent  to  the  fact  that  a  cold  north  wind 
accompanied  by  a  chilling  drizzle,  had  set  in  as  if  for  the  night. 
Tom  and  Jimmie  silently  led  the  way,  the  doctor  and  Jack  as 
silently  following,  each  busy  with  a  multitude  of  thoughts  and 


FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM  221 

wild  conjectures.  Ever  and  anon,  Jack  would  shiver  violently, 
but  not  from  the  cold.  The  brilliant  electric  lights,  defying  wind, 
rain  and  darkness,  twinkled  brightly;  and  when  in  the  distance 
Jack  saw  a  huge  automobile  standing  before  one  of  the  best 
residences  he  knew  intuitively  that  he  was  nearing  the  place  of 
his  loved  one. 

Just  as  he  surmised,  Tom  and  Jmmie  paused  in  the  shadow 
of  a  great  evergreen  tree,  and : 

"Here's  the  place,"  spoke  Tom  cautiously.  "Now  if  you  will 
all  remain  here  quietly,  I  will  go  around  the  back  way  and  try 
and  see  mama."  Weak,  nervous  and  apprehensive,  Jack  leaned 
against  the  tree  for  support. 

"Go!  and  for  God's  sake  come  back  as  quickly  as  you  can," 
he  whispered,  hoarsely. 

In  silent  sympathy  Jimmie  crouched  on  a  projecting  root, 
and  occasionally  spoke  encouragingly  and  hopefully  to  the  suffer- 
ing man.     Presently  Tom  returned,  walking  rapidly: 

"I  just  thought  I'd  come  and  tell  you  that  I  heard — heard 
a — something  squalling  like  forty  in  there!"  Jack  sprang  for- 
ward excitedly  and  caught  the  boy  by  his  shoulders. 

"And  my  wife — how  is  she?"  eagerly,  and  tremulously. 

"I  didn't  see  any  one,  sir,  but  I  heard  the  murmur  of  cheer- 
ful voices  and  am  sure  she  is  all  right." 

"Tom,  please  go  back  and  find  out  something!"  pleaded  Jack. 

"Yes,  my  boy,'  do,"  added  the  doctor.  "And  have  your 
mother  send  that  doctor  out  to  us  soon  as  possible,  so  we  can 
hear  from  him  how  everything  is,"  and  Tom  again  disappeared 
around  the  house. 

It  was  perhaps  twenty  minutes — a  lifetime,  it  seemed  to 
Jack,  ere  Tom  returned  with  a  happy  smile  on  his  face,  eagerly 
and  cautionsly  whispering : 

"It's  a  boy!  And  she  is  0.  K.  mama  said."  Jack  bared  his 
head  and  looked  up  through  the  dark  clouds  and  with  faith  in 
a  beautiful  future,  he  reverently  exclaimed: 

"My  God!  I  thank  Thee!  I  praise  and  bless  Thy  Holy 
name,  for  all  thy  many  rich  and  undeserved  mercies.  Hence- 
forth, my  life  shall  be  an  expression  of  love  and  gratitude  to 
Thee.    Father,  accept  me !" 

"Amen!"  spoke  the  doctor  brokenly,  as  he  grasped  Jack's 
hand.     Tom  continued: 

"Mama  already  knew  about  you,  Mr.  Arlington,  and  said 


222  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

your  wife  had  declared  several  times  that  she  felt  you  were 
near — though  of  course  she  doesn't  know  it.  And  that  before 
going  to  sleep  your  wife  was  not  too  much  exhausted  to  be  deeply 
interested  in  the  baby,  and  she  kissed  it  murmuring:  "My 
precious  little  one!  Don't  we  wish  papa  knew,"  and  then  she 
kissed  your  picture,  and  fell  asleep  with  it  on  the  pillow  by 
her  cheek.  The  tears  were  now  rolling  down  Jack's  face  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  they  kept  him  from  rushing  into  the 
house. 

Dr.  Ross  came  out  and  was  introduced  all  around.  His 
opinion  of  the  patient  was  gratifying,  and  he  said  if  she  rested 
well  till  morning,  the  nurse  should  break  the  news  of  Jack's 
arrival,  and  let  him  into  the  room. 

She  had  cried  out  for  "Jack"  more  than  once  that  evening, 
and  had  confessed  her  identity  to  the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Bruner, 
feeling  that  death  was  near  and  she  must  not  die  unforgiving 
and  unloving. 

"I  was  going  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  sending  you 
a  telegram,  soon  as  I  reached  my  office,"  said  Dr.  Ross  to  Jack. 
"How  glad  I  am  that  it  is  not  .necessary,  and  that  the  dear 
little  woman's  troubles  are  over.  I'm  sure  you  can  see  her  early 
in  the  morning,  Mr.  Arlington,  without  fear  of  the  excitement 
having  a  bad  effect.    Joy  seldom  kills." 

Jack  went  meekly  back  to  the  hotel,  like  one  in  a  dream, 
but  Doctor  Brown'  found  it  necessary  to  give  him  an  opiate  ere 
he  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep. 

Next  morning  poor  Jack  knelt  by  his  wife's  bed,  and  laid  his 
head  on  her  pillow,  pleading  'in  broken  tones  for  pardon,  ere 
he  so  much  as  touched  her  hand. 

"Darling,  I  can  never  forgive  myself,"  he  cried.  "But  I 
plead  for  my  life — I  cannot  live  without  you." 

"Oh,  Jack!  my  precious  boy,  I  alone  was  to  blame — I  have 
known  it  a  long  time — but  would  not  confess  it.  I  was  haunted 
by  what  you  said — but — I  have  reformed,  indeed  I  have,  dear, 
— and  we  will  both  together  have  charge  of  him,  and  may  God 
help  us  to  bring  our  little  man  up  in  the  way  he  should  go," 
and  a  slender  white  hand  tried  feebly  to  raise  the  bowed  head. 

Tenderly  Jack  gathered  the  frail  figure  in  his  arms  and 
rained  tears  and  loving  kisses  on  the  sweet  pale  face,  far  more 
beautiful  than  it  had  been  before  chastened  by  sorrow. 

Then  Jack  wanted  to  see  "the  boy"  and  the  nurse  brought 


FROM    BALL    ROOM   TO   WEAVE    ROOM  223 

the  little  bundle  of  ribbon  and  lace  from  the  next  room  and  laid 
him  in  his  father's  arms.  Jack  was  too  full  for  wards,  but  the 
rapt  expression  on  his  face  was  far  more  eloquent,  and  he  was 
never  so  happy  as  at  that  moment. 

Doctor  Brown  was  waiting  impatiently  in  the  parlor,  but 
thinking  they  had  forgotten  him,  he  ascended  the  stairs,  clearing 
his  throat  and  coughing,  to  anounce  his  coming. 

"Can  he  come  in  darling?"  asked  Jack,  still  holding  the 
baby. 

"Of  course  he  can,"  smiled  Theo,  brightly.  "My  dear  old 
doctor."  And  the  nurse  opened  the  door  and  the  good  man 
walked  in  cheerfully: 

"Bless  my  life!  if  you  haven't  played  a  trick  on  us — you 
sly  puss!"  stooping  to  kiss  her  cheek.  "My!  my!  I  have  never 
been  so  surprised  nor  so  pleased.  All  things  work  together  for 
good — didn't  I  always  say  so?  And  say,  now  Jack,  arn't  you 
happier  than  you  could  have  been  under  any  other  circum- 
stances? Come,  'fess  up !'  Haven't  'these  light  afflictions'  worked 
out  for  you  a  greater  happiness?"  and  he  took  the  baby  from 
Jack  going  to  the  window  to  look  at  him. 

"Light  afflictions  indeed,"  smiled  Jack,  bending  over  Theo 
"But  darling,  I  am  so  happy  that  I  can't  realize  just  now,  how 
much  I  have  suffered."  The  nurse  and  doctor  were  busy  with 
the  baby  and  did  not  notice  that  two  white  arms  were  twined 
around  Jack's  neck,  and  the  affectionate  words  he  had  pleaded 
for  in  his  note  and  longed  for  months  to  hear,  were  whispered 
in  his  ear : 

"My  own,  precious,  darling  boy!" 

But  why  prolong  the  story  ?  Tom,  instead  of  being  reproved, 
was  looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  hero  and  benefactor,  and  in  spite 
of  his  earnest  protests,  a  thousand  dollars  were  placed  in  the 
bank  for  him.  Mrs.  Bruner  and  the  girls  received  numerous  and 
magnificent  presents,  among  them  being  a  grand  piano. 

On  the  last  day  of  December,  Jack  and  Theo  returned  to 
New  York,  in  company  with  Jimmie,  and  none  of  their  society 
friends  ever  knew  but  what  they  had  just  come  back  from  their 
foreign  tour!  Doctor  Brown  had  long  since  returned  and  was 
the  first  to  welcome  them  home,  where  the  servants  had  been 
notified  to  have  everything  in  readiness. 

The  following  June  the  Rev.  Harriss  and  Lilly  Bruner  were 
happily  married.     Mr.  Stanford  had  continued  to  call  occasion- 


224  FROM  BALL  ROOM  TO  WEAVE  ROOM 

ally  upon  Hazel,  but  one  day,  with  her  dark  eyes  blazing  with  in- 
dignation, she  quietly  pointed  him  to  the  door  and  requested 
that  he  never  call  again. 

Theo  did  not  fail  to  let  Mrs.  Evans  know  that  she  and  Jack 
were  again  so  happy,  and  Jack  laughed  heartily  over  the  charac- 
teristic letter  which  she  wrote,  which  began  with  "I  told  you  so!" 

Mrs.  Evans,  Mrs.  Bruner  and  Theo  correspond  regularly, 
DuBoise  joined  the  U.  S.  army.  Jimmie  is  still  with  "Mr.  Jack," 
and  Doctor  Brown  is  never  happier  than  when  in  the  Christian 
home  of  the  Arlingtons  and  playing  with  the  boy. 


